


Sparrowhawk

by Rockatanskies



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Before Overwatch, During Canon, F/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2018-11-22 05:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 94,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockatanskies/pseuds/Rockatanskies
Summary: As a young woman hired to work in Hanamura for the benefit of the inhabitants and guests of Shimada Castle you find yourself getting a lot more out of your new job than you bargained for.++++++++++++A slow-burn, eventual romance, even more eventual smut Genji/f!Reader fic. Set both pre- and post-Overwatch as well as pre- and post-Dragons of course.





	1. Employer

**Author's Note:**

> In case you couldn't tell (haha) I don't have a beta reader, so please point out any mistakes.

"I promise, everything's fine."

You repeated the platitude down the phone to your mother for what seemed like the thousandth time since you'd been here, cradling the cell between your ear and shoulder as you struggled to stow your suitcase below the bed. "Everyone seems nice, yeah. My boss is gonna give me the grand tour in-" Here, your sentence with interrupted by a knock at the door of what was now your room. "Ah, now. Try not to worry, mom. Okay. Yeah. Yeah. I love you. Bye." Heaving a short sigh of relief as you hang up the call, you cross your spartan new bedroom to open the door. With little more than the low mattress and wardrobe it wasn't hard to throw the door as wide as it would go, greeting the redheaded woman there with a smile. "Sorry, just reassuring my mother."

She held her hands up in mock-surrender. "Oh, don't worry I get it, my dad was the same when I first got here three years back." She had an accent you couldn't quite place, something British-adjacent perhaps, and she held out her hand for a quick shake. "I'm Poppy. I'm pretty sure they just sent me because of the language barrier but, y'know, everyone speaks pretty good English anyway." She turns away and motions for you to follow. "Obviously you know where the dorms are and the kitchens are this way..."

***

It's later than you thought by the time Poppy has shown you around the kitchens, dining halls, the multitude of master bedrooms, and various other hallways and staircases, and your head is swimming with all this new information. Poppy is sympathetic though, and finally you wind up back at the kitchens for a drink. You sip teeth-rottingly sweet soda sat side-by-side on a countertop, Poppy flirts and teases with the cooks and introduces you to people who happen by.

"So," you say thoughtfully, chewing on your soda straw, "Where are the Shimadas anyway?" Poppy shrugged in response.

"Sojiro's away most of the time, or busy, you'll probably never see him. Don't ask. Hanzo and Genji are around quite a bit but you'll mostly just be dropping their food outside their rooms and collecting their laundry." She paused to consider a loop of ginger hair that she'd been twining around her finger. "Mostly it's just staff." As if on cue an older woman in a uniform not unlike the one hanging on the back of your bedroom door bustled in and made a beeline straight for you.

"Ah, yes, the new girl," she said, speaking quickly and not bothering to introduce herself, "I'm sorry about how busy it's going to be with the parties and dinners and whatnot when you've just got here." You shoot a panicked look at Poppy who offers a stilted explanation that she was just getting to that bit before the new stranger hustles her away, shoving a sheaf of papers into your hand, with what appeared to be instructions, timetables, hints and tips and, perhaps most intriguingly, snippets about your new, mysterious employers who you'd yet to meet.

***

_Hanzo Shimada is almost always busy... professional, but not unfriendly... try not to panic if you're working in the training grounds and you see something strange... takes his tea strong..._

_Shojiro will sometimes want drinks at business meetings, go in and out as quick as you can... don't ask questions... tends to dote on the youngest..._

You were enjoying reading these things, each tip handwritten by a different hand and xeroxed into the smudged, faded grey papers. You were holding the collected knowledge of the hundreds of staffers that must pass through Shimada castle each year, each day even. You had the feeling that it was all important but you couldn't help but keep flipping back to one section in particular.

_Genji Shimada is probably the nicest person you'll have worked for so far... notorious playboy... I've had to fetch him back from bars miles away before... don't let the hair shock you, he changes it every week and a half..._

Your favourite note on the interesting Genji was a quick scribble at the bottom of the page: _GORGEOUS smile!_ You stowed the sheaf of papers in the small drawer in your bedside table, switching off your lamp after a cursory glance at the timetable; collecting laundry was hardly a glamorous way to kick off your time working abroad but needs must, and your needs must be funded some way or another. 

Laying back, listening out hopefully for a breeze that never came on the hot air, you thought back over all the new information that came that day but kept getting stuck on wondering, just how gorgeous could a smile be?

***

'Very,' seemed to be the answer to that question, you reprimanded yourself silently in the corner, 'Irritatingly, frustratingly, very gorgeous.' You stared straight ahead over the heads of the diners in all their finery, unable to pick up any snippets over the hubbub from the kitchens and your limited Japanese. The wine jug in your hands was slippery with condensation and fragrant, making your head swim after your long day of work, not to mention the rest of your day... You permitted yourself a stolen glance at the back of Genji's head, the shorn green locks standing out in the room, as you replayed your first day of work in your head.

***

It had all started that morning when you woke up, disoriented and lost. This was not your bed. This was not your room. It was far too light outside and your head was pounding from a poor night's sleep. You rolled over and opened one eye, staring reproachfully at the clock on the nightstand. 

It was 7:20.

With a start, you leapt from under the covers and dressed as quickly as you could, shoving your hair roughly into a hairband and forgoing your usual showering and brushing routine, pausing only to buckle a shoe and brush your teeth at the same time. Any other day and 7:20 would be too early but today? Today you were almost an hour late for your first shift. You were almost home free when you tripped, snagged your stocking on the corner of the doorframe, and stubbed your toe, dragging a scream of frustration and pain that you muffled behind a bitten knuckle. Certifiably pissed and unwilling to wait any longer you storned out of your bedroom and-

"Oof!" 

Snapping your head upwards to confront the owner of the (rather nice, toned, thinly-clad) chest that you had just collided with, the thunder in your eyes abating somewhat when you took in the face; dark eyes that twinkled with barely held amusement, straight nose... gorgeous smile. Dammit. Your head sank back down, half respect and half embarrassment as you stammered an apology to Genji Shimada, your new employer for all intents and purposes. He surprised you by chuckling.

"It's fine. I noticed you were late so I brought this-" He held up a linen bag. "For you. Just make sure you make it to the gym on time, okay?" He dropped the bag next to your door and clasped your shoulder briefly as he walked away, a short touch that somehow left your skin hot and flushed when it was gone, and you finally looked back up, chancing a look in the bag.

Laundry. You grimaced.

"You need this job, you need this job," you repeated to yourself over and over as you slung the bag over your shoulder and headed onto your tasks. "You need this job and your rude, attrac- nope, just rude boss isn't gonna change that."

***

Managing to avoid a yelling from anyone for being late, you rushed through your first job and ran to the gym as instructed ('by the timetable, definitely not trying to impress Genji' you swore to yourself), managing to arrive first and standing near the back. If you didn't know better you'd say the place was kitted out like a dojo of some kind, with training dummies and mats and a locked cabinet you supposed must contain weapons. Not long after you arrived you heard voices in the hall, followed by the arrival of two young men, one being Genji of course and the other-

"Hanzo, brother," Genji pleaded, that laugh still implicit in his tone, and god did he manage to sound smug, "All I said was I'm pretty sure I could kick your a-" Hanzo coughed tactfully in response, giving you a pointed look over his brother's shoulder. Genji spun around quickly, not seeming to lose balance at all, and shot a wicked smile across the room. "Ha! You are on time." He approached quickly, footfalls soft in socks, and inclined his head, standing close, far too close, at this distance you could probably just bump into him again and- "I don't believe we were introduced properly this morning. I'm Genji." You responded in kind, quietly, not looking up, afraid of a flush on your cheeks. You could hear the smile back in his voice when he spoke again. "And this is Hanzo. He's the angry one." Hanzo didn't deign to reply to this, instead instructing you to fetch towels from the adjacent room. Grateful for the excuse you went.

You bumped into Poppy in the linen closet, and she threw a quick hug around your shoulders. "You're in the gym, huh? Good luck. They get competitive." You nodded and grabbed the towels as asked.

"Hey," you said quietly, before the redhead could run off, "Thanks for sorting out those tips, they've been uh, helpful." She grinned and raised an eyebrow.

"I was right about the smile, huh? Gotta go, more and more guests arriving for this dinner. Enjoy the show!" And like that, she was gone, leaving you shaking your head as you returned to your task. By the time you'd got back the two brothers were sweaty and facing each other holding wooden training swords, Hanzo serious but smiling, Genji wielding his like a fencer's foil and shuffling backwards. You couldn't help but rake your eyes over the pair, particularly the younger brother, his thin tank top sticking to golden sweat-slick skin; your eyes followed a droplet of sweat that carved a path from his green hair, down across his sharp cheekbones and jaw, across the tensed column of his neck, and lost it under the neckline of his shirt. He moved then, and you started, followed by inwardly cursing yourself for mooning over a man you'd just met, let alone your boss. 

Eventually, you watched as Hanzo, clearly spotting some weakness that your close watching couldn't see, quickly and masterfully overpowered his brother, shoving him to his knees with the wooden blade at his throat. Tactfully, you kept your eyes trained on the ground. A soft clapping started near the doorway.

"I must say Hanzo, you're improving," came a voice, upper-class and measured, "As for you, Sparrow... It is good to see you trying hard, my son." Ah, Sojiro then; you kept your head bowed, unobtrusive, as the three chatted seemingly amicably in their native tongue. You didn't even notice that the Shimada patriarch had gone until Hanzo snatched a towel from your arms and stalked out of the room, pausing only to shelve his training weapon. You looked up at last - you swore this job was gonna give you whiplash by the end of the first week - and saw Genji standing not too far away, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. 

"Sorry... about him, I mean," he said, avoiding your gaze. "I'm not usually that..." He trailed off, waving his arms weakly as though to gather the words that he was seeking to him. You were struck by the dawning realisation that he felt off about losing in front of you. He shrugged, the smirk back as soon as it had faded and took the other towel from you, mussing his limp hair with it. "I'll see you later. At dinner?" he added, seeing you start, the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, causing you to silently promise that you weren't actively looking at those lips. You nodded and realised he'd moved closer again. Up close his dark eyes were gray, the spark in them even more evident, his eyelashes casting spiky shadows on those sharp cheekbones; you prayed that he didn't hear your breath hitch.

He handed you his towel. Goddammit.

You bowed your head quickly and went to leave, accidentally brushing past him on your way, reigniting the spot on your shoulder that he'd touched this morning. You could have sworn the barest hint of a wink was thrown your way as you left.

_Fuck._

***

And that was how you found yourself here serving wine at the dinner, in a fresh uniform and with your hair helpfully pinned up by Poppy, who also helpfully didn't ask why you seemed so lost in thought - she'd probably chalked it up to the stress of your first day. Your reverie was interrupted by someone asking for a refill of their cup, to which you quickly obliged. Genji was opposite the man you were helping and, feeling daring, you caught his gaze with yours as you straightened up. He looked taken aback for just a second before his face split into a slow grin, catlike almost with his sharp canines at the edges. You were about to return with a smile of your own when Hanzo nudged his brother with an elbow, a fraction too hard and all but reached out and turned Genji's torso around himself, giving you an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Justly chastised, you sped away as quickly as was appropriate. 

"Something important's going down I guarantee it," Poppy hissed from next to you, her own hands clutching an ice bucket. "Never seen this many guests rocking up at once. And it had to be on someone's first day..." She blew her bangs out of her eyes and shifted the bucket in her arms. "Oh! It looks like it might be over. You can start clearing the table, hand me the jug." She was right, people had begun to stand and shift, hands her shaken and Sojiro himself showed the visitors to the door, before doubling back to talk quietly to his sons. Hanzo seemed displeased, Genji nonchalant, but the older still left with his father. Genji hung back, idly toying with glasses left on the table, taking a large swig of a cup of something strong-smelling that wrinkled his nose. You approached slowly, pretending not to notice his presence.

"We uh, have to stop running into each other like this."

You roll your eyes at the cheesy line, and Genji laughs awkwardly. "I believe that is the saying anyway." You nod, and carry on clearing the table. He stands in your way, still looking at his glass as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"I hope you're finding the place to your liking so far, anyway." He puts the cup down on the table and goes to leave, stopping with a small 'ah..' to brush a hair from your face. You stand stock still until you hear the door close and then march to the kitchen with armfuls of cutlery. Poppy raises an eyebrow, up to her elbows in suds in the sink.

"Good first day then?"


	2. Notice Me

"What the hell do you suppose they're talking about in there? They've been here a week, they must have come to some kinda agreement by now."

The question took you somewhat by surprise. Poppy was gazing in the direction of the closed double doors that you passed, carved as they were with twisting dragons and smoke clouds that seemed to billow as the light shifted through the blossom on the trees outside. You shrugged.

"Omnics or something. I don't pretend to understand any of this. Nothing really happened here after all." Despite your non-committal answer, Poppy still looked worried, brows furrowed and her bottom lip bitten. She whipped her head around to face you again and her biting turned to a grin. 

"So, I meant to ask, what was all that with you and the sparrow?" She drawled over the nickname, clearly mocking, and you nudged her with an elbow as best you could with your arms full of bundles of stapled papers. You couldn't help but agree with her question - what _was_ that with Genji? You hadn't seen him since, your duties keeping you busy elsewhere, and you flushed every time you relived the moment his fingertips brushed your cheek as they brushed away a lock of your hair, not to mention the memory of the spark in his eyes and the sweat on his skin. Lost in thoughts, you'd managed to reach your destination without answering and, with a wink, ducked through a door despite your new friend's whispers of protest.

***

Barely an hour later you were pulled aside by another member of staff who thrust a covered tray into your hands. 

"Listen, you've gotta take this up to Genji's room," they said, snuffing your questions with one stern look. "He's not been down in days. He shows up to meet the guests and vanishes. Just knock, and if he doesn't answer leave it outside." You clasped the tray a bit tighter; whatever was on it smelled absolutely mouthwatering and you nodded quickly, turning on your heel and marching off in the direction of the rooms. 

Halfway there you rounded a corner and almost walked smack into an uncomfortable looking Hanzo. He greeted you politely, if not warmly.

"Is that for my brother? Don't bother, he's in a mood about something or other." He fiddled with the cufflink on one shirt sleeve. "I have to meet with the sons of one of father's guests. You'll stay out of the way won't you?" You made little noises of assent and continued on your way, bowing as quickly as you could, ignoring his comment and heading for Genji's room. The door has scuff marks at the bottom, as though it's been kicked open more than a fair few times, and you hesitate before knocking, three quick raps of your knuckles. No answer.

You try again, louder this time, and an irritated groan is your answer. You try calling his name, respectfully, with all the proper titles and whatnot, but it sticks in your throat you realise that you're nervous about seeing him again. You resolve to just try knocking again, but before your knuckles hit the door it is opened and they instead bump none other than Genji Shimada in the chest. You stay like that for a moment, stunned eyes locked on your curled fist nestled between his firm, bare pecs, before you slowly tilt your head up to meet his glowering eyes beneath tousled green bangs.

"Move. Your. Hand."

You comply.

"Tray."

You release your grip on it as he takes it. Before you can turn away he speaks again.

"Look, whoever you are, you need to be more careful."

Unthinking, your mouth drops open to argue, but before anything comes out the door is shut in your face and you're left alone in the hallway with a stupid look on your face and the feeling that you've been slapped. The metaphorical slap seems to burn away the gentle feeling of his fingers on your cheek and all you can hear are those three words: _whoever you are_. Realising you're still staring at a closed door with your mouth open, you shake your head, turn, and march away. With no jobs lined up until the late afternoon, you decide to cross the courtyard back to the dormitories, maybe taking in some fresh air would help.

Outside you pass under the trees, fragrant and heavy with blossoms, and find a bench to sit on, twisting your fingers together in your lap. You become aware that you aren't alone out there as shadows cross your vision and you look up, catching Hanzo's eye; he raises his eyebrows and gives you a rueful smile. You can see the message in that smile clear enough; _told you so_. You manage a small smile in return, as though just making fun of his brother and not over-analyzing your last week in Japan completely, and catch the eye of one of the men accompanying him. The trio approach you. Oh god.

"Hanzo," says the younger of the two strangers, who you suppose must the sons Hanzo mentioned in passing, "You didn't tell me you hired models as help. This one's far too pretty to be scurrying about tidying all day." He describes your job derisively, never taking his eyes off your face. You're taken aback, not used to such close scrutiny. You notice Hanzo looks uncomfortable again.

"Yuuto, we should really be carrying on." 

The man staring at you, Yuuto, smiles again and bows to you, still never taking his eyes off you. "I shall hope to see more of you around." And like that Hanzo and the visitors are gone, leaving you feeling somewhat repulsed on top of your general confusion.

Today was gonna be a long day.

***

"Ugh, no, he's vile isn't he?"

You'd got talking to some of the other staff in the kitchens when you wandered down to snaffle a few bites to eat from the fancy platters that would be served for Sojiro and his guests later that night. Practically half the staff had had similar run ins with Yuuto whenever he showed up, even some of the guys. The popular opinion was that Yuuto was a piece of shit, his brother Reo was okay, and life got way better when they weren't around. Also, nobody will elaborate on the ominous warning you got from a senior butler: 'You should have seen what he did in the pool last time'. 

"He was a little creepy," you admitted with a smile, feeling more at ease now. You were shooed off the counter by a chef holding a fish almost as big as you were and took that as your cue to leave, headed back to the gym yet again to keep an eye on the place and clean up afterwards.

When you got there you seemed to be the last one to arrive; Yuuto was there ( _shit_ ) experimentally swinging around a training sword and ignoring Hanzo's advice on how to wield it properly. Even better - or maybe worse? - Genji was stretching in the corner, the muscles in his arms visibly moving beneath the tight sleeves of his workout shirt. He was facing away from you and, despite your sour mood towards him, you couldn't help but gaze appreciatively at the hard planes of muscle of his back, the twin dips at the base of his spine, the single strip of exposed skin above his shorts, golden and glistening. He turned around and you whipped your gaze away, busying yourself with unlocking the cabinets that contained the practice weapons. 

"Hey."

The quiet voice was right behind you and you jumped. _Fuck, how did he move so quietly?!_ Careful to keep your face neutral, you turned and faced Genji. He was looking at the ground between you and picking at a stray thread on his shorts. 

"Yes?" Your voice came out harder and crueler than you wanted it to, and Genji flinched, turning his face up and meeting your gaze with puppy-dog eyes. 

"I just wanted to apologise for earlier, I-" His apology was cut off by a barking laugh and the appearance of Yuuto at his shoulder.

"C'mon Shimada, we're all waiting on you," he said, before he perked up at the sight of you, eyes growing wide and posture straightening. He reminded you of a dog catching a scent. "Hello again, gorgeous. Leave her alone, little bird, I've already claimed this one." Yuuto threw you a wink and your stomach coiled in on itself in revulsion, but you forced a smile anyway. You weren't sure if you were imagining it, but you thought you saw Genji's jaw tighten. His hand definitely clenched into a loose fist. Giving you a stiff nod, Genji turned away, leading Yuuto. Just when the tension in the air was so taught it could be snapped with one of those bamboo swords, Hanzo approached you and spoke quietly.

"It's alright I don't think we'll need you, you can head off," he grimaced here, and gestured in the direction of his brother and their guest who were squaring up for a sparring match. "Besides, Yuuto is trying to impress you, he always does this." Suddenly grateful you wouldn't have to watch this pointless macho posturing, you left the way you came, which meant walking past Genji and Yuuto. There was a wolf whistle as you left the room and you turned back to see who did it; instead of throwing Yuuto a withering glare, you were distracted by the look on Genji's face. Somehow it was angrier than he looked this morning. You understood the real meaning of the saying 'if looks could kill', and if they could, Yuuto would be six feet under. You left, almost worried for Yuuto's health.

***

There was some kind of sleepover going on in the dorms.

"We always do it to celebrate a new person!" Poppy explained, as she painted your toenails bright green. "We would have done it a week ago but it's been crazy here." Half of the other female staff members had piled into your room with snacks, movies, and pilfered beer from the kitchens, and set about lounging around, complaining about their jobs and gossiping. It felt comfortable. Familiar. Normal. You took a swig of beer and tried not to kick Poppy as she accidentally tickled your foot. The door opened and a woman you recognised as one of the complex nurses walked in, flopping down on the nearest available patch of floor and kicking off her shoes. You handed her a beer.

"Ugh, thank you," she sighed, holding the cold bottle to her forehead. "I've just spent the last hour stitching Shimada's face back together, I need a dang drink." She swore in Japanese and then opened the beer, seemingly downing half the bottle in one go. Your blood ran cold at her explanation. Poppy noticed you freeze and gently probed the newcomer for more information.

"It's not quite as bad as I made it sound," she admitted with a smile, "The way he told it he was sparring with Yuuto-" Here, half the room groaned in unison. "And he was going too hard at him and didn't notice Yuuto swinging one of those swords at his head." She tapped a spot just above her eyebrow. "It'll be a smallish scar, but it's all gross and swollen." She took another drink, seemingly done. Poppy squeezed your foot reassuringly, continuing to paint your nails. You pulled away, standing and dusting yourself off.

"Bathroom," you said quickly, waddling away as fast as you could with freshly-painted nails, switching to walking normally once you were out the door. You weren't sure where you were going, but you knew you had to get there quickly. Before long, you were jogging, then sprinting, legs on auto-pilot.

***

For the second time that day you found yourself staring at Genji Shimada's bedroom door; this time however you were in shorts and a tanktop rather than your fancy maids uniform, with smudged toenails and a hand hovering in front of the door about to knock. You'd been stuck this way for about ten minutes now. You'd known the guy barely a week, and he'd been a complete dick to you this morning, but you couldn't help but think he'd got his ass kicked trying to stick up for you. 

You pulled your hand away.

You put it back.

Pulled it away.

Put it back.

'You're being ridiculous,' you told yourself, biting your lower lip, 'He's your boss. Not your friend. Just go back to your room, have a beer, forget you ever spoke to him.'

And yet you stayed. Trying to find some compromise, you fished around in your pockets for some paper. Finding an old receipt ('when was the last time I had tacos?') you scrawled a message on the back with the tiny pen you were supposed to carry everywhere.

_Genji, I'm sorry to hear you got hurt. Apology accepted, by the way. xxx_

And with that you shoved it under his door, trying not to think that adding three kisses on the end might have looked a little weird. As soon as the crumpled receipt was out of sight you leapt up as though stung and started making your way back to the dorms, the first seeds of doubt niggling at your mind.

The creaking of a door opening behind you stopped you in your tracks.

"Tacos, huh? This your way of asking me to dinner?"

Oh no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Reader will be spending more time around Genji eventually, it'll get there ;)


	3. Catch and Release

You turn, slowly, willing the owner of that voice to be anyone other than Genji, even though you knew the moment his hushed voice shot liquid fire down your spine that it was him. He's there, in baggy sweatpants and a tanktop drooping off one shoulder, hair mussed from sleep and leaning on the doorframe with your note held almost delicately between two fingers like a cigarette, a wicked smirk beneath tired eyes. He looks delectable, enticing. Dangerous. Your traitorous feet are already sending you back towards the door though, and closer you can see the injuries; the dark circles under his eyes are not sleepless nights but rings of purple bruising, and there is an angry, puckered wound above one dark eye, cutting a path through his eyebrow and stretching like a yellow-black rainbow towards his temple, criscrossed with stitches. He looks down, away from your eyes.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he says with a sigh, crumpling your note in his hand, "I ought to thank Yuuto really. It adds a certain something." His smile is rueful as he runs square fingertips over the scar. You shake your head.

"It's not _ugly_ ," you manage eventually, quietly, "Y'know what they say, chicks dig scars." You feel like kicking yourself. Then, Genji laughs softly, almost under his breath and meets your gaze again. 

"I can honestly say I have never heard anyone say that." His eyes burn into yours, something unspoken and unspeakable passing between you for just a second before one of you blinks. You're not sure who. "I'm glad you accept my apology. My behaviour was... unbecoming." You nod this time, barely, and reach out lay a hand against his cheek. Your heart stops as Genji stares at you, but then his eyes close and he leans into your touch like a cat, nestling his hollowed cheek against your palm. He's warm, far too warm, and the bruises look even more vivid, more painful against your hand. 

"Does it hurt?" you ask, and he nods, a movement you feel in the shift of his jaw against your wrist, and it stands all the hairs on that arm up on end. "What did you... I mean, why did..." His own hand comes up to meet yours, fingers briefly wrapping around your wrist, and he pulls your hand from his face, unceremoniously dropping it.

"The why isn't important," he declares, avoiding your gaze, "Yes. It hurts." He looks away, behind himself at his own darkened room. If you crane your neck you can see the outline of his bed in the dark, something glimmering on the wall, the faint moonlight catching on something else on the floor. You stop yourself staring before he turns back to you. "Would you like to come in?" 

Something inside your chest sang out for you to say yes, but sensibility seized the words in your throat and you stepped back, barely half a step. It was enough. He straightened up and tucked the receipt into his pocket, before reaching out and clasping one of your shoulders. Half bared, the heat of his skin presses into your flesh and you know you'll be feeling the warmth of his fingers long after he withdraws them. 

"Yuuto shouldn't have spoken to you like that," he says, almost to himself, eyes back on yours, gaze serious and voice low, "I-" He stops and smiles, all geniality and politeness again. "You should go." He releases your arm and it's only then that you realise he'd been tracing his thumb in circles against your collarbone, the warmth spreading to your face in a blush. 

"G'night," you all but whisper, as he steps back into his room. He mouths his reply back and grins crookedly, causing a little thrill in the pit of your stomach for some reason you can't put your finger on.

The click of the door as it shuts is a semi-colon, not a stop. 

***

Your bedroom is quieter when you return, most of the others sleeping or gone. You didn't realise you'd been missing quite so long on your 'bathroom break', but you were sure you'd have some explaining to do in the morning. You resolve to settle down next to Poppy and act like you'd slipped back in, unnoticed, much earlier than you had.

At least that was the plan before she rolled over, stirred, called you a 'dirty stop-out' in a sleep addled mutter, and proceeded to snore again.

_Oops?_

***

You started later than usual the next day, with your schedule demanding that you skipped the usual laundry and gym routine for a morning off, before helping serve lunch. A lie in was a luxury you'd missed already over the last week and you stretched, finally having the bed to yourself after everyone had hurried off to start their days, You couldn't help but think over the fact that Genji might have been sticking up for you when he got hurt; was one crummy note really suppose to make up for that? You reasoned with yourself that he barely knew you existed as you snuggled back under the covers, and yet the ghost of his hand on your shoulder seemed to squeeze, burning that irrepressible warmth back into your flesh. 

It wasn't nothing. You weren't sure if it was quite something. It was intangible, like heat haze off a car hood, but if you tilted your head right you could catch it in the light. An almost. A maybe.

***

"Hey, you know about tomorrow night, right?"

The question comes from one of the cooks, a German boy now much older than you. His name escapes you. In fact a lot of things were escaping you today; you'd already been yelled at twice for forgetting which fork went where, and wearing your napkin on the wrong arm. You weren't sure where your head was at, but you could make some pretty good guesses involving broad shoulders and green hair. You shake your head, trying not to look surprised.

"Oh. There's a party. Pretty much everyone is working it, you'll probably be serving drinks or something." He shrugs, but his smile is sympathetic. "It'll all calm down soon, it's all to impress the guests." He makes the same expression everyone makes at the though of extra work for Yuuto of all people. "They'll be gone morning after next, promise." He nods and busies himself with chopping some kind of meat into cubes (he even has a ruler, you notice) and you head out into the dining room to clear the table. Snippets of table conversation reach your ears as you work, not recognising anyone eating apart from two; Yuuto and Hanzo.

_"The young master Shimada didn't show himself again today..."_  
"Hmph, at least Hanzo will be taking affairs over after Sojiro, that one can be trusted..."  
"Probably drinking again last night...."  
"An embarrassment..."  
"Probably too embarrassed to show what I did to his face..." 

That last voice you definitely recognised, from the smug tone to the barely concealed laugh, and shy away from his corner of the table. Hanzo catches your eye and shakes his head: _Stay away_. You can't argue with that one. You couldn't shake the feeling that you'd overheard something you weren't supposed to; of course, you weren't blind to Genji's reputation, he'd been on tabloid covers a million times back home, but that it was affecting his relationships with the other clans bothered you. Plus, you hadn't seen anything like that since you'd been here, how true could it be? Almost as if in answer to your question, Genji bursts into the room with a smile on his face despite the injuries, and fairly threw himself down next to Yuuto, telling some story about how Yuuto had honorably bested him between snatched mouthfuls of food. You retreat to the kitchens.

"I swear, that man could charm a bird out of a tree," you exclaim to no one in particular, only to be met by a 'I hear ya' from Poppy who had seemingly just arrived an hour late to the kitchens. You roll your eyes at the girl who is swiftly becoming your new best friend, and nudge her gently with an elbow.

"What? Of course I'm late! You snore."

***

It's late. Later than it should be. You're headed back to the dorms again, with your shoes in your hands to avoid the inevitable blisters, when you hear what is almost definitely vehement, venomous cursing in Japanese from outside the building you're passing. You don't need this. You want to go home, maybe watch some awful reality TV with some of the other staff, maybe sneak in a shower long enough to actually condition your hair. You don't want to find out why the normally implacable Hanzo is spitting teeth and pulling his hair out and turning the air a fairly awful shade of blue. Too late, this is happening.

You approach, head bowed, all ready to make a good impression and ask if he needs any help but the next thing you know Hanzo stage-whispers 'You!' and you find yourself being hurried into a dark corner of the porch by Hanzo Shimada, the good and honourable brother if you can believe the gossip.

"I need to find my brother," he whispers dramatically, hands linked behind his neck as though trying to twist off his own head in desperation. "Normally I wouldn't care that he's gone out again, but I need him here _now_." Behind him, you can hear Yuuto's braying laugh from inside and raise an eyebrow. Hanzo sighs deeply. "I'm trying to make them make amends. Look, could you please just try and find him. I'll give you an hour, if you can't find him just come back and go to bed." You open your mouth to ask why you, and why not send security, and seemingly a million other things but Hanzo shuts you up with just a look. "He will never come back with any of security, trust me. And don't forget to get changed, the uniform is a giveaway."

With that, Hanzo is gone, distracting Yuuto with drinks and dice, and you're left standing in the dark, holding your shoes to your chest, with the impossible task of finding one drunk young man in a sea of drunk young men.

Alone.

In Hanamura.

Easy, right?

***

Surprisingly, it was.

Your strategy was just to aim for the clubs and bars with the most expensive cover charge and work from there. You found him in the second one, after blagging your way past the bouncer with your work ID and saying you'd come to collect Genji. The bouncers seemed almost grateful. 

That's how you found yourself standing just outside the VIP area, watching as Genji leaned on the bar and flashed that smile at the waiters, and was flirted with by every imaginable facet of beautiful person, man or woman or neither, wrapped in everything from glitter and gauze to leather and lace and yet he turned them all down. You couldn't hear words but you watched him push hands away, shake his head, even shrug hands from his shoulders and ignore people completely. When he moved to go back to his booth the crowd parted before him, despite the swaying of his steps, and he sat, drink in hand, smiling. He pulled out his phone and then grimaced; you could only imagine what Hanzo had sent him before he found you.

"Miss? You the one here for Shimada?" The bouncer by the velvet rope peers at you inquisitively. You'd eventually settled on wearing something so you could blend in; a dress, simple and long but cut into high slits on both sides. You nod, relieved he knew, and he pulled back the rope to allow you access. The crowd around Genji parts easily enough; seems his admirers weren't interested when he wouldn't play along. _Maybe he was worried about Hanzo? Distracted? Maybe his face was hurting too badly?_ You refuse to consider any alternatives for his dismissive behavior of everyone around him. 

"Genji?" you say when close enough, bending down a little to look him in the face. His eyes take a moment to focus through a haze of alcohol and neon lights and strangers perfume, but then he smiles wider than you've ever seen.

"Ah! It's you again!" he exclaims, sitting forward a little, too close, your faces practically bumping into each other. "I've been seeing you a lot. A lot of you? One or the other." He takes a sip from the drink in his hand which smells like pure gasoline to you, but he swallows without so much as a twitch. His free hand comes up and cups your face to your surprise, and he leans in again so you can hear him. "Can I buy you a drink?" 

You shake your head no, frantically trying to convey over the chatter and the thumping music that you need to get him back because Hanzo is looking for him. Genji rolls his eyes. The hand against your cheek is tracing the delicate shell curls of your ear with feather-light fingertips and you shudder, suddenly cold despite the lights and the bodies pressed close to yours all around. 

"No, Genji, please come on..."

The hand is now on your shoulder again, mimicking that same circular graze against your collarbone from outside his door but more insistent, a little faster, a little below the bone in the soft hollow there, and your breath hitches in your throat. It tickles, and raises goosepimples along your arms, and your lower lip briefly catches between your teeth. He doesn't notice, having moved on to twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. You take his wrist in your hand, fingertips pressing lightly against the green veins there. You can feel his pulse rush by your fingers, it's strangely intimate, his life passing your digits by moment by moment.

"Hey, Genji," you say, a little firmer this time, and he notices, the smile fading. "We have to go. I have fifteen minutes to get you back to the goddamn castle or your brother might actually murder you." You hoped you wouldn't regret that empty threat eventually, but for now it gets him moving and you're grateful. He flushes, and you frown, confused.

"Can I, uh..." he begins, wavering a little on his feet. "Can I hold your arm? Just to keep me steady, y'know?" You nod, smiling a little at the fact he asks despite touching you quite freely not five minutes ago. He links arms with you and soon you are back in the night air, which he gulps in gratefully despite the humidity. You begin the short walk back.

"Sometimes it's just no fun," he muses, feet weaving as he walks. "Sure the dancing, the drinking, whatever. I just wish people didn't flock around me like that."

"Maybe you should stop ordering drinks with sparklers in them then." He lets out a tiny sarcastic 'ha-haaa' at your quip, but you can tell he found it funny somewhere deep down.

"You know what I mean. You must have had proper, real friends back home right? Where even is home?" 

The rest of the walk is spent swapping stories; your best friend from back home, your mother, your father, his childhood, old stories about Hanzo, the weird dream he had after you left last night, how long this walk seems when you're drunk am I right, and finally you wind back up at the last few days somehow.

"Your face looks better, sort of."

"No thanks to Yuuto."

"I thought he honorably bested you," you say, grinning, teasing Genji about his dramatics over lunch. He huffs in response.

"Please," he scoffs, lowering his voice as you pass through the castle gate arm-in-arm. "He insulted a pretty woman. I wasn't gonna stand by and let that happen." The sudden burst of a blush across your face is enough to stop your tongue. He unlinks from you, seemingly sober now, and goes to join Hanzo. Turning around halfway to the door, he waves to you and mouths a thank you. You return his wave somewhat half-heartedly, suddenly exhausted, the long hours of your day finally catching up to you under the moonlit blossom and you climb the stairs to your quarters, face burning pleasantly.

***

Crack of dawn was not so much an expression in this house as a rule. The sun peering through your thin blinds felt like someone cracking a whip across your eyes, and you stubbornly curled in on yourself and your pillow; Hanzo's little fetch quest had kept you up far too late, although you couldn't honestly say you regretted it. Rising and dressing as slowly as you could manage before making yourself late, you thought back over the last night. You were pretty sure all memory of your appearance in the club, the talk on the way back, and _oh_ , the way Genji's fingers left trails of fire on your skin that raised goosebumps in your wake and made you hold your breath... Yeah, you were pretty sure he wouldn't remember any of that. Pulling your hair up into a ponytail, you left to start your day, almost tripping over a brown paper bag just outside your door.

Curious, you opened it up. Inside was a pair of fish-shaped buns, golden brown and soft looking. You'd heard of them but never had them, at least not properly; you could never find any with proper red bean paste back home. A receipt was stapled to the side of the bag, with something scrawled on the back.

_You mentioned last night that you'd never had taiyaki; shame on you! These are just for you ok? - GS xx_

"Okay, maybe he does remember," you said to the fish buns with their empty eyes and sad looking faces. "No big deal, right?" The buns did not answer. You bit into one immediately, and tucked the other into your room before locking the door.

It was sweet. Still warm. It tasted like the way Genji's fingers felt on your skin.

_Freakin' amazing._


	4. Champagne

With a mouthful of red bean paste and pastry, you make your way off towards the kitchens; with this party tonight all the visiting clans would be brought together for the first time since they all arrived, and everything had to be perfect. Before Yuuto got a chance to ruin it, you supposed. Greedily tucking the rest of the bun into your mouth you bounced down the stairs and out into the courtyard with bulging hamster cheeks, wiping crumbs on your skirt as you went. You hadn't had this good of a morning since you got here, despite the low-hanging clouds in the sky that promised rain, and you were pretty sure it had nothing to do with a good night's sleep.

You dart into the kitchens early to everyone's surprise, even your own, and set to work shining cutlery and joking with the other staff.

"What, did your bed turn to lava?" asked the cook, raising an eyebrow as you choked down the last of your sweet breakfast.  
"I'm never _that_ late!"  
"You kinda are."  
"Oh, like you're always on time."  
"I was in my _first week_."  
You paused before your next reply, thinking for a beat longer than before. "I'm not as bad as Poppy."  
"Okay yeah, nobody's as bad as Poppy."

"Guys, I'm right here," Poppy groaned from behind an enormous pile of napkins that she was folding into various shapes; swans, a few boats and-

"Are those dragons?" you ask incredulously, abandoning the dessert spoon you'd been labouring over with a cloth to pick up one of the delicate creations. You had no idea how she'd done it. "It's even blowing smoke, it's a napkin, fucking hell." Poppy swatted at you with a fresh bit of cloth.

"Watch your language, Jesus Christ," she admonished you, but she was smiling, and looked sort of smug. "You work here long enough you'll be able to fold one of these things into almost anything. Especially dragons. You haven't noticed sort of a theme?" You shrugged. Sure there was artwork of dragons everywhere, and carvings, and Hanzo and Sojiro both had massive tattoos of the damn things. You weren't sure if Genji had a matching one, _after all you've not seen every inch of him_ your brain helpfully supplied, making you blush suddenly. You set the dragon back down, fetching your polishing gear.

"I thought it was just a motif or something."

Poppy deftly made another napkin swan. "Oh yeah, all the clans have them, pretty sure Yuuto and Reo are some kind of bird each but the Shimada dragons..." She trailed off for a moment, thoughtful suddenly. "They're something else." She set aside the swan and started on another dragon, this one bigger than the last, before speaking in a hissed stage whisper. "Maybe you can ask Genji about it next time you go to his room in the middle of the night."

You snap your head around towards her so fast that you were surprised it didn't spin off your shoulders completely and smack Poppy in the face. She was biting back a laugh and raising her hands in surrender, but still you pointed the spoon at her in a mock-threat, feeling a smile quirk up the corner of your lips. 

"You're so dead."

"Oh yeah, what're you gonna do, spoon me to death?"

***

You thought the entire day would be taken up with preparations for the gathering later that night, but once the chef had inspected your polishing (for the fourth time, you might add) you were sent off to your usual duties. Which meant going back to the gym. You were starting to get a little sick of this place, you had to admit, but at least the chance of seeing Genji hovered tantalisingly in the air of the place every time you were there.

In fact, when you walked in, he was there already, alone for once. His back was turned and he was bent low over a box; you could tell even with your limited Japanese that he was counting something out. Curious, you slip off your shoes and crept up behind him, extending a hand and tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

_Wham._

All the air was driven from your lungs as you are knocked back by one powerful strike to the chest, falling back and gasping for air like a beached fish. Even as you stumble backwards Genji's stronger hands grabs your outstretched wrists and tugged you back to a standing position, before moving to your back and patting there worriedly. You coughed, encouragingly, face red and eyes streaming. 

"Fuck, I am so sorry," Genji cursed, his face almost as red as yours, his voice high and quick. "I thought you were Hanzo sneaking up on me, god, are you okay?" You nod weakly and throw him a thumbs-up before you start coughing again. He guides you to sit down on one of the elevated sparring mats and vanishes for a second, coming back with a cup of water which you accept gratefully. He sits down next to you, head bowed so that his thick green hair falls over his face, and tentatively places his hand on your back, running his palm across it in wide circles. You eventually get your breath back and manage a gentle laugh.

"It's fine, honestly," you say, turning ever so slightly towards him, drawn to his warmth like a moth to flame. "Don't sneak up on the ninja, duly noted." He smiles at that, and pushes his hair away from his face. This close, you can see the black at the roots of the green, and the dark shadow of stubble that marks his upper lip and jaw. 'You've never kissed anyone with a beard before,' you think to yourself, surprising yourself. Genji is close enough to do just that and for one crazy second you can imagine leaning in and pressing your lips against his, before you start coughing again that is. You take another sip of water and the moment is gone, although he is slow to lean away, slower still to remove his hand from your back. You stand up and he follows suit, although he jingles when he moves. You raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh! Shurikens," he explains with a huge smile, pulling one from inside his sleeve. He must have tens of them on him for the jingling to make sense, explaining the counting, and they are not the kin of the bamboo practice swords either; these are wicked sharp, the edge almost slicing away into nothingness with the sharpness of it. Nonchalantly, without taking his eyes off you, he tosses the weapon across the room and it slams into the head of the training dummy he's got set up, right where the eyes would be. Your mouth drops open, flicking your eyes back and forth between the dummy and his hand, before breaking out into an excited grin. He shrugs, and his hand goes to the back of his neck, a smug smirk on his face. "Yeah, I'm pretty good, I could, uh, teach you? If you wanted?" He was suddenly nervous again, and you see his Adam's apple bob in his throat. 

"You're on, sparrow," you finally say, holding a hand out for one of the shurikens. To your surprise, he moves behind you, using a foot to nudge your legs apart into the proper stance, sliding his hands along your arms to clasp your hands. 

"First of all, relax," he says, and his mouth is so close to your ear that you can hear his lips part, so close that you can feel that stubble brush the soft curl of your outer ear. "Here take this, line your thumb up with the point-" The weapon is lighter than you though it would be and you arrange your fingers accordingly, his larger digits covering yours and guiding you. "Now bring your arm up, put your hand next to your ear..." He trails off, and now his chin is resting on your head, your arms mirror images of each other, coiled and ready to strike. He tilts his head for a moment and you swear that he nestles his cheek into your hair like a cat being petted. His other hand is still holding yours; it serves no purpose for the lesson as far as you can tell, but you daren't move it in case he releases your fingers and realises that this simple touch is setting off fireworks beneath your skin. 

"Okay, point your elbow where you want the shuriken to go and... Throw!" 

He releases your throwing arm and you do as he commands. The shuriken sails across the room, spinning, and lodges itself in the chest of the dummy with an audible _thunk_. 

"Ah!" you cry out in happiness and surprise and turn, throwing your arms around Genji. He catches you and wraps his muscled arms around your shoulders with a laugh, giving you a squeeze. It is only then you realise you're hugging your boss and this is the closest you've ever been to him. Your face is pressed against his chest, your arms encircling his slender waist. He is firm to hold, and against your cheek you feel the unmistakable thump-thump-thump of a racing heart, mimicking yours almost exactly. 

"Not bad for a first timer," Genji says from somewhere above you, and you lean back in his arms so you can see his face, to find him looking down at you with a huge, goofy grin that shows off his sharp canines. "We'll make a ninja of you yet." You smile back, barely concious of the fact that neither of you has let go of the other. His hands support you easily, spreading almost across your whole back, secure and warm, so warm, like he always was. You bite back a bubble of nervous laughter.

A cough from the doorway catches both of your attentions and you leap apart as though electrified. Spotting the long hair and well-groomed beard of Sojiro Shimada you quickly duck into a bow and excuse yourself with all the proper courtesies to both him and Genji, keeping your head down as you pass Sojiro to leave. You do manage to catch a glimpse of his face, and it is set in a friendly smile. He speaks to his son, likely reminding him that he should be getting ready for the party.

"As should I for that matter," you mumble to yourself as you walk away, trying to push the embarrassment out of your mind. So what, you gave him a _friendly_ hug? It's not like Sojiro had walked in on you with your tongue in his son's mouth...

***

"Aw hell, don't worry, I'd be mortified too," Poppy said, animatedly waving the hairbrush that she was using to tame her wild red hair. You'd regaled her with the colourful account of your impromptu training session as you got ready for the gathering, and she was, as always, slightly more level-headed than yourself. "Still, at least you weren't, like, cupping his-"

" _Aaaand_ , changing the subject," you interrupted through the three bobby pins clamped between your teeth. "Why do we have to look so nice anyway? I'm just gonna be walking around with trays of drinks and you're doing god-only-knows what." Poppy wiggled her eyebrows at you in the mirror you were sharing.

"What can I say? I'm a woman of mystery. Probably picking up after all the posh twits who have no concept of recycling." She stuck her nose in the air and carried on trying to flatten her hair into some kind of updo. You rolled your eyes, finishing up the final twists and pins of your own hair, before freeing up your hands to help with your friend's. "Seriously though," Poppy continued, eyes suddenly grave in the mirror, one delicate hand coming up to wrap around your wrist. "Be careful okay? I don't want to see you get hurt over some fish shaped buns and a pretty smile."

You half-smiled and dislodged her hand so you could braid a particularly tricky curl. "Trust me, it takes more than that to win me over."

Although right now, you weren't so sure that was true.

***

You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for the bar staff to refill your clutch of champagne glasses, leaning against the cool wood of the bartop with relief.

"Y'know these glasses are supposedly modelled on Marie Antoinette's boob?" he says conversationally, pouring the golden liquid as quickly as he could. You manage a tired smile. 

"You're only the third person to tell me that tonight," you admit, hefting the tray of champagne back aloft with all the grace you could muster. "The first one who hasn't been drunk though so, kudos." He raises the empty bottle in salute as you turn away. All the staff had this weird solidarity during events like these; just do what you're told, keep your head down, and you might be able to get to bed early. You'd only seen Poppy once all evening, even though you were now starting your fifth circle around the room, and she seemed just as tired as you were. Circling the room with your tray held high, you exchange pleasantries with strangers as they take a glass. You head towards a knot of people, mostly older clan leaders from what you can tell, and are surprised to see Hanzo in their midst looking grave and uncomfortable.

"Champagne?" you offer to the men, and they turn to you as though irritated at the intrusion before gratefully accepting cups. Hanzo shakes his head.

"Oh, come now Master Shimada," says one of the strangers, a venerable old man with wizened hands and eyes swallowed in folds of wrinkles. "You should be celebrating most of all." Hanzo shakes his head again and mutters something to the older man that you don't quite catch. The old man shrugs. "I suppose you're right." He clears his throat, and then raises his glass, leading the assembled people in a toast in Japanese; you realise Sojiro is missing, which seemed strange, all the other clan leaders were here. You depart quickly, rounding a pillar made in the likeness of one great stone dragon, and try and make out what they're saying.

A gruff snort to your left startles you. 

Genji approaches from that direction, emerging from the dimness at the edge of the hall and he stops next to you, looking past you at the dragon's face on the pillar.

"To Hanzo," he says quietly, tracing the curl of the dragon's scales with a finger, "The true future of house Shimada." He huffs air through his nose with a rueful smirk then finally turns to you. "That's what they're saying. After all, Hanzo's the oldest and he's _responsible_. Boring, is more like it." He shrugs one shoulder. "Never mind. Are you okay? You're looking a little worn out." You shake your head with mock indignation.

"Master Shimada, how dare you?" you say, trying your hardest to even pretend to be mad at him. "One never comments on a lady's appearance like that." He laughs and leans on the dragon pillar with one shoulder, tilting his head as he looks at you.

"Oh, one doesn't, does one?" he says, mocking you. "Well, one also can't let a lady go around with her fancy hair falling out like that." Your free hand flies up to your head and sure enough, locks of it have come unpinned from the style. 'So nice of everyone to let me know,' you think, gritting your teeth. Genji reaches out for that hand and gently leads you through a door you hadn't noticed into a dimly lit side room. He sets your tray down for you and then comes back to standing behind you. His fingertips brush the nape of your neck, questioning and you nod. He begins loosening the rest of your hair from the updo, and cards his fingertips through it, brushing out tangles. Your scalp is tingling with each pass of those clever fingers, and you shiver, taking in a shallow sigh. He slows his movements, maybe concerned he'd hurt you, but then he speaks.

"Uh, your hair it's trapped in the zip, at the back here-" He jingles the zipper pull between his fingers, and then swallows. "I'm just gonna have to pull it down a little, I just wanted to warn you before I..." He pulls, and you hear the teeth of the zipper part one by one, holding your breath. Genji's warm fingers brush the skin of your back, brushing away the strands that were caught there over your shoulder. He stills for a beat longer than needed, fingers pressed into your cool, goosepimpled skin as though memorizing this tiny detail of you. His forehead is resting on the back of your head, his breath tickling your exposed neck, his other hand resting lightly on your left shoulder. Here, in the dark, with Genji Shimada's warm breath on your neck and the scent of incense and champagne in the air, you felt you could stay forever. You let out the breath you didn't know you were still holding. The spell is broken. The zipper is refastened, his hands return to fixing your hair.

"I, uh, used to have to put Hanzo's hair up for him," Genji explains as he pins and twirls your hair. "Before he learned to do it himself. There! Turn around?" You oblige, keeping your eyes down. He gently crooks a finger under your chin, tilting your face up towards his, making you look at him. He's so close, and you can see the light from the lantern outside the window reflected twice over in his slate-grey eyes. The scar above his eye looks a little better now, fading to match his golden-brown skin. His voice is so quiet when he speaks again that it's barely above a whisper, little more than a breath. "Beautiful." 

You stand like that for a moment, frozen, with his hands on your face and your hair and your eyes locked. His are half-lidded, the pupils blown wide and black and endless, you feel as though you could fall into that blackness and happily never emerge. He murmurs your name and then he's leaning in and your eyes close-

A barking laugh from the doorway interrupts.

"Huh, really Shimada? Making out with the staff in the closet?" Yuuto says, leaning arrogantly on the doorway. "You're lucky I'm not gonna tell anyone. Not that it's change their minds about you being a joke." Genji backs away from you, squaring his shoulders and staring Yuuto down. You press a hand to his back: _Don't_.

Quietly, you collect your tray, leaving behind a glass for Genji. You try to edge past Yuuto in the doorway, but he slams a hand into the door frame, blocking your path. 

"You're wasting your time. He'll be onto the next girl before you know it. Or guy. Who even knows with losers like Genji?" Yuuto's voice is honey-coated poison, and you find yourself repulsed yet again. "You'd be much better off with someone with some prospects. Not to mention, someone without green hair." Never mind green, you saw red.

Heaving the heavy drinks tray forwards you slam the whole thing into Yuuto's chest. Glasses shatter and a huge, sticky wine stain erupts across the whole front of Yuuto's body. Drops of champagne run in rivulets down his shocked face and, before he can do anything, you bow to him and Genji, and make a dash for the bar for a fresh set of drinks.

Behind you, you can hear the two hissing in Japanese, obviously trading insults. 

***

"Please, please, tell me you know something about Yuuto storming off dripping wet earlier," Poppy begs, leaning through the hatch into the kitchens to talk to you. You're waiting for more glasses to be freed up, the omnic busboy, whose name you learn is Kenshin, apologising profusely for the wait. You give him a warm smile and he salutes you with an easy familiarity, finally pulling cups from the dishwasher. 

"I may or may not have had something to do with that," you admit cryptically, grabbing the tray from Kenshin who thanks you in his eerily calm voice. "He may or may not have been a total ass." Poppy snorts with laughter and claps you on the shoulder before leaving, a congratulatory gesture. 

"Oh yeah!" she starts back, waving to grab your attention. "Courtyard in 10 minutes. There's some kind of _thing_ happening."

"You know that's not at all descriptive right?"

"Not my problem! 10 minutes!"

And like that she's gone back into the crowd and you're left circling the groups of strangers for 10 minutes, wondering what on earth that was all about.

***

The courtyard is cold and bright under the moon, and crowded with people arranged in a wonky oval, leaving a space in the middle. You're perched in the branches of a sakura tree with Poppy to get a better look, as all the staff were relegated to the back. There's nothing there right now, but everyone below you is chatting animatedly.

The crowd parts and all three Shimadas enter, Sojiro and Genji and Hanzo. The brothers have gotten changed into what look like more comfortable clothes, and each has a weapon with him; Hanzo a deadly looking compound bow, and Genji a pair of swords, one of which is unsheathed and already in his hand. He flips it experimentally, drawing a shocked gasp from a cluster of women near the front of the crowd. He throws them a wink, a smile, then keeps scanning the crowd. He pouts slightly, apparently not finding what he was looking for. Most people look concerned about the fact that the two scions of the Shimada clan are apparently about to fight in the garden in front of their guests. 

"Y'know what's weird?" Poppy whispers, pulling a tiny bundle of notes out of her top, apparently having stored them in her bra. "Genji slipped me this to make sure I got you out here, and we don't even get front row seats." You look perplexed at your friend, who wiggles her eyebrows and stores her money back in her bra. You flush. So, that's what he was looking for. Sojiro begins to speak and the crowd falls respectfully silent.

"Gathered friends," he says, in English, "Long has the Shimada clan demonstrated their connection to the dragons, and it is with greatest pride that I present my sons to you; Genji, and Hanzo." The sons bow, Hanzo stiffly and Genji with a huge grin, obviously reveling in the attention. Sojiro halts the applause with raised hands and continues. "It is my pleasure to present to you the _power_ of the Shimada clan. The power we have always had, and will continue to have. No matter what." His voice is pleasant, but there's a certain gravity to his words, and you get the impression this is a demonstration of strength with a purpose beyond entertainment. No matter. He moves aside and Genji and Hanzo face each other, the younger brother bouncing on the balls of his feet as though they were about to box.

Hanzo raises his bow, Genji his sword. Their voices raise as one.

_"竜神の剣を喰らえ！"_   
_"竜が我が敵を喰らう！"_

Their voices echo, unearthly loud and ringing, as though they came from the inside of your head rather than halfway across the courtyard. The whole crowd watches dumbfounded as Hanzo's tattoo glows blue and a dragon, two dragons, seemingly made of pure light, erupt in the path of the arrow he fired, coiling around each other in the air, guided by the arcing of Hanzo's arm. They are savage looking, all fangs and blank white eyes, but obedient, floating once over the crowd and back to Hanzo's side, curling around him, huge protectors and weapons all in one.

Meanwhile, on Genji's side, a green shimmer seems to travel down the veins of his arm, into the sword before exploding out of the sharpened tip as another dragon, green this time. It is longer than Hanzo's pair, but more slender, the eyes kinder, the fangs longer. It seems to have a mind of it's own, coiling up into the sky before-

"Oh my god, it's coming this way," you whisper, reverent of the beast that unfurls its way towards your tree, your nails digging crescent-moon shaped marks into the bark. The dragon stops just short of you, it's head bent so that it can look at you. The warm light of it bathes you as though the sun had risen into the night sky, and you can tell that everyone is looking at you. Through the pale green haze of his dragon you can see Genji, beaming as bright as a solar flare and tentatively, you reach out and touch the beast. It's a light brush of your fingers against what you expected to be an intangible nose, but it's warm and oddly soft. The dragon closes it's eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch just like Genji did, before returning to it's master.

The crowd is twittering madly, all impressed and awed at the display, and the brothers dismiss their dragons with whispered words and gestures you can't quite follow with your eyes. Poppy is nudging you then, urging you out of the tree and back inside; it's cold and you need to get back to work, but you linger for a moment, gazing over at the man whose very soul just nuzzled into your palm like a cat. 

He turns his head, just briefly, and your eyes meet across the empty air. Something like an electric current, like the green glow of his sword, passes between the two of you, and he smiles that sharp grin again, setting your heart fluttering. It is you who turns away first, dragged by Poppy back to the kitchens to start clearing up, and the next time you look back he's been engulfed by the enthralled crowd of visiting clans.

***

"How much more can there be to do?" you whine, lugging yet another tray full of dirty plates and glasses to the kitchens for Kenshin to deal with.

"Not much," he replies, taking the items one at a time. "Unless that was meant to be rhetorical, in which case, I offer my sympathies." You smile at the omnic and turn to go and collect more stuff, but he pipes up again. "This was left for you by the way." 

You turn back as quickly as you can and grab the note that he is offering you, basically snatching it from his hand. You mutter an apology, but Kenshin has already gone back to cleaning, and unfold the paper. It's folded over and over again, more times than you thought necessary, and when you open it the message is criss-crossed a thousand times with fold marks, but it still reads better than your favourite book.

_I've never seen anyone charm a dragon before; I guess I'm more like he is than I thought. Thank you, for listening to me tonight. I hope you didn't work too hard. I'll see you soon, promise. GS xxx_

You fold it back up and clutch it in your palm. The corner digs into your palm as you press it against your chest as though willing the warmth that rose there to spread, to dissipate, but it just spreads up into your cheeks as a blush. 

"How do you do this to me in writing, Shimada?" you muse to yourself, so quietly you weren't sure if it was out loud or not. Kenshin shouts from behind that you can go ahead and leave and you do, dreamily, barely stopping to wish anyone goodnight. You practically float back to the dorms, the note curled in your palm like a secret, and land on your bed with a little _oomph!_ , the busy day catching up to you at last.

You fall asleep in your clothes, dreaming of lantern-lit black eyes, green dragons, and the glimmer on the edge of a shuriken.


	5. Downtime and Disguises

You awake with a start and rub your eyes, smearing the remnants of last night's makeup down your cheeks. Your uniform has come half undone in your sleep and it's rumpled beyond belief. Rising with a groan, trying to stretch the aches in your muscles out, a piece of paper flutters to the ground from inside your sleeve. Curious, you reread the message left for you by Genji the night before and remember - the gathering, the dragons, the darkened side room where he fixed your hair. You smile at the paper wearily, and slip it into your bedside table. You could think about that later.

For now, it was time for a shower. Stripping off the last of your crumpled uniform you step under the hot stream of water, letting the droplets beat a tattoo against your skin and soothe away the bad night's sleep with the warmth of the shower and the familiar smell of your shampoo. At least you had nowhere to be today; with the dispersal of the Shimada's guests and the majority of the tidying up dome after the party, it was your first day off since arriving in Japan, and somehow you'd made no plans for it. As you scrub the suds out of your hair with your fingers, the fleeting memory of Genji's fingers in your hair comes, unbidden, to the forefront of your mind. Your breath hitches in your throat. All he had done was run his fingers through your hair, brush them against just a tiny part of your exposed skin, and yet it felt like he had wormed his way inside your mind, letting you conjure up the feel of his hands (big, warm, slightly calloused, and nimble) against you whenever you felt like it. You wonder idly if he could be thinking about you right now. Regretfully, you have to leave your steam-filled shower and dress, supposing that you had better do something with this day. The cherry blossoms outside the window rustle in the breeze, and that settled it; it was time to explore your new home. Seeing Hanamura by night was one thing, but you hadn't seen the district in the day since you landed, and the castle walls were too high and thick to spot anything from the dorms. 

Tugging on boots and grabbing your keys at the last second, you head for the door, resolving to leave everything, _everything_ , about the last week of your life behind the castle walls.

***

You find that the majority of downtown Hanamura is a cute cluster of stores. A bookstore that grabbed your attention turned out to be a hidden treasure chest of dusty old early prints of a few of your favourites, you snagged a letterman jacket with a dragon on the back of it in a clothes thrift store, and now you find yourself looking in the window of a tourist trap looking place; the window is filled with snow-globes, Hanamura branded t-shirts, and various other bits and pieces. You didn't really want any of it, it was all a bit tacky, but you did have to admit that the tiny Shimada castle in one of the snowglobes was kinda cute; you notice that they left the dorm building off of it though. Quickly digging through your purse to find the right amount of yen, you enter and emerge mere minutes later shaking your snowglobe. Up close you notice the snow inside is actually pink - cherry blossoms. 

Stuffing your souvenir in your bag, you decide to head across to the arcade you spotted on your way in; it was hard to miss, with it being three floors of neon, noise, and ringing ticket machines. With a smile, you pass through the door, noting the differences between this place with it;s sleek sufaces and brand-new games, and the arcade on the seafront near your home, which was run down and owned by a couple of hippies who had settled there after protesting during the Omnic Crisis. You practically race across the room when you spot your favourite game, _House of the Dead 7_ although with some amusement you notice that the Japanese version has more guns and a sword and more blood dripping from the zombies. There's a guy already playing on the Player 2 side, but you drop your coins into the slot and pick up the plastic gun regardless, cocking it arrogantly and waiting for the timer to count you in.

"Hey, you're pretty good at this," you remark, watching Player 2 hammer on the trigger over and over. Truthfully, he was missing a lot of really easy shots, but you wanted to be nice, especially to a complete stranger. The stranger chuckles, but his voice is muffled as he speaks.

"Ha, well, I'm not the marksman my brother is," he says, and looking at him you can see that a scarf is pulled up across the lower half of his face and a beanie low across his forehead, "But I make do." You know that voice, you know that laugh. You know those soulful, piercing dark eyes. You know if you ripped that hat off his head that his green hair would be fluffy and staticky from the wool. 

"Goddammit Shimada," you say, smiling so he knows you're not really mad. "Do you follow me now?" He raises an eyebrow, and nudges you gently with the butt of his plastic shotgun.

"I was here first, besides, don't act like you're not happy to see me." You couldn't lie, your day off did seem to just get a whole lot less boring. A deep voice from the game finishes counting down and the two of you turn away from each other to start shooting. You're easily getting twice the amount of headshots as he is, and the gore is sort of satisfying, a good way to blow off steam.

"You should ask my brother for archery lessons," Genji quips from your right and you snort with laughter.

"I'm not sure the great scion of the Shimada clan would deign to teach me," you fire back, aiming away to reload, "Then again, I got a pretty great shuriken lesson from the _other_ one." He falters when you say that and turns his head to look at you, distracting you in turn.

"Pretty great?" he asks, reaching up to pull the scarf down from his face. The neon lights catch on his face, glowing down the bridge of his nose and pooling in his cupid's bow, making his smile even more blinding that usual. The moment is broken by your video game characters screaming in terror as a zombie launches itself at the screen. 'GAME OVER' drips down the screen in scarlet blood and you start laughing. Genji joins in after a moment, stuttering through it at first, but soon throwing an arm across your shoulder to support himself as he crumples in on himself with laughter. You gaze up at his face, at the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs, and you feel that twinge in the pit of your stomach again; it's strange, and you know that it probably shouldn't be there, but at the same time it's not altogether unpleasant. His eyes open a little, and you're staring at each other again.

"We should..." He starts, and then looks away towards a fighting game that is just over your shoulder. "See that?" He leans in, cheek brushing yours as he whispers into the curls of your ear. "Best of three. Loser buys lunch."

And with that he drags you over to the new game.

***

Three rounds later, Genji is pouting as you tease him about losing so badly. The first round was over in two moves, you managed to knock his character out of the arena with a well-placed roundhouse kick and he had been sulking ever since. He had pulled his scarf back up but the memory of his obnoxiously pouting lower lip had wriggled inside your head and begged for attention. You were headed for the door so he could make good on his promise to buy lunch when he grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers, and drags you over to a dance machine that you were hoping he hadn't noticed.

"Genji, no," you beg, even as you step up onto the platform. "I have two left feet and you already lost fair and sq-" You're cut off as he brings you close to his body, the warmth radiating off him feeling heavenly as a roll of thunder rumbles outside. His thumb traces the outline of your lower lip and his eyes, all you can see between the hat and the scarf, are burning into yours with a spark a thousand times more intense than before. He inhales slowly and you find yourself hanging on his every word as he speaks again.

"Too bad."

He'd distracted you and picked a goddamn song while you weren't looking. To top it off, it's a really _really_ hard one. Genji is in position immediately, feet bouncing from one glowing arrow to another, and you are enthralled; he's quick and graceful, which you knew, but the laugh that comes from seemingly deep in his chest is infectious, and despite your embarrassment, you find yourself joining in. 

The song is so fast you're out of breath after the first half of it, and Genji wins easily, the machine taunting you for losing in Japanese. You lean over and weakly shove Genji, who stumbles backwards in mock-horror, still giggling helplessly.

"Okay, okay," he says after a series of deep breaths, holding his hands up in mock defeat. "I'm still buying lunch, I swear. You might trip over your two left feet on the way there though so-" He holds his hand out to you. Your fingers interlock again, palm to palm, pulse to pulse when you stand next to him. What little you can see of his cheeks above the scarf is flushed, and you're sure that you're blushing too, but you set off nonetheless.

You step out into Hanamura as the sky opens, and the first fat raindrops thankfully cool your heated face.

***

"Rikimaru," Genji repeats again around his mouthful of noodles. He's teaching you how to pronounce the name of the ramen shop that you ended up in. The atmosphere in here is warm and close, but despite that you're sitting as close as you can, on matching stools with bowls of ramen cupped in your hands and chopsticks moving swiftly from food to mouth and back again. You repeat the name after him and he nods, satisfied. He remembered your conversation that you'd had when walking him home last week, and has asked you questions about pretty much everything - your education, your mom, your siblings, what led you to Hanamura.

"I guess I just wanted to see the world," you admit with a shrug. "Save some money before I do whatever. No plans really." He smiles and raises his glass to that.

"Hey, me neither. Pretty much just training to live in Hanzo's shadow," he says with a little bitter laugh, and picks at the paper napkin on the bar. "But hey, no boring financial management or dealing with the family business, I just kinda get to do whatever I want. Whatever I like."

You tilt your head this time, slurping up the last of your food before you speak. "Like what?" He smiles then, and goes into an explanation of his favourite pastimes; you find that he is a keen reader, which you had not expected, and he likes to dance, which you'd learned to your peril in the arcade. His face is alight with passion, his lips smiling even as he speaks, and his eyes light up just like before. 

"Well, as well as all that, you know I like champagne and pretty girls," he says, winking at you to make you blush anew, and you think you hear him let out a happy little sigh. "Pretty boys too, don't get too big-headed." You swat at him with your napkin and he laughs as he stands, pulling the scarf back up over his face. The rain is coming down in sheets outside, and from the sound of it, it would knock you over if you stepped out in it from the weight of it bearing down upon you, but Genji offers his arm anyway. "C'mon, I can't let you walk home in this. I'm the black sheep of the family but I'm not a total monster." He's texting as you step outside, furiously fast.

You stand silently under the murloc statue on the front of the restaurant, watching the torrential rain pour down around you. The world holds it's breath, teetering on each second as the water worms it's way inside your clothes and the two of you stand arm-in-arm, quiet as the dead. He turns to you, as though to speak, but another roll of thunder cracks overhead like the air is breaking in half, and he settles for a warm smile instead. A black car moves sleekly into view, the twin dragons of the Shimada clan visible in the rain on the license plate. He leads you to the back seat before slipping in next to you. The seats are heated and you unconsciously let out a small groan of relief as the warmth nestles against your damp clothes. Genji freezes, and you see the tendons in his neck stand out for a moment. His eyes are closed, but soon he is leaning forward to talk to the driver, and you're pretty sure you see money change hands. You're too warm and frankly, worn out to think anything of it though, and you settle for leaning your forehead against the cool condensation on the window and watching Hanamura pass by in a mosaic of blurred neon lights

***

"Well, this is me," you say awkwardly. Genji had insisted upon walking you all the way back to your door, rather than just the entrance to the dorms, and you mentally kick yourself for saying that because-

"I know," he says, barely bothering to disguise his laughter, "I brought you the buns here, remember?" You nod.

"And your laundry. On my _first day_." He smacks his forehead in frustration.

"God, I did! You must have thought I was such a-"

"Dick?"

"Ha, not the word I was going to use but-" Genji shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Pretty much, yeah." You smile at him, wondering how someone so easily flustered could pull off Genji's cocky public persona. 

"Don't worry, you made up for it," you reassure him, and he rolls his eyes, before meeting them with yours, his warm fingers coming to brush across your cheek.

"Shame, I was hoping to have to make up for it a little more." The hand on your cheek drags down to your shoulder, trailing down your arm to take your hand. Before you can react, he pulls his scarf down before raising your clasped hand to his lips and brushing a small kiss on your knuckles. It is brief, and chaste, but it sets a fire within your blood that spreads through you quicker than you can count. He straightens back up and smiles at you, before walking off quickly with nary a word nor a wave. 

You stand there, alone with your hand on the lock to your door, blushing furiously for a beat longer than intended and it takes you a little longer to realise the quiet, high-pitched squeak of excitement you had heard had come from you.

You wondered if Genji felt the same fire in his blood that he ignited in yours whenever you parted. Somehow this warmth melted away your doubts for as long as it lasted every time, and you had dubbed it a private and, if you were honest with yourself, slightly embarrassing nickname.

_Dragonfire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //A short one this time - I really struggled with this chapter and it shows, I'm sorry! In case anyone is wondering, Genji picked Running In The 90s on the dance machine. Go look up the DDR version it's STUPIDLY hard my dudes.


	6. From His Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //As you can probably tell from the title, this one is told from a close third-person Genji's perspective instead of focusing on the reader. It also features my very first little bit of smut ever so I'm going to be extremely embarrassed! Ahh!

"You've been distracted. You've been making mistakes. You're getting -" Hanzo dodges Genji's clumsy punch and grabs him in a hold, grappling him to the padded floor of the training room. "Sloppy." Defeated, and dejected, Genji taps out and rolls away from his brother, springing back to his feet with the unerring skill of a ninja, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer. He doesn't deign to look at his brother, afraid of agreeing with him. He is distracted. He has been making mistakes.

"Like you care," Genji spits, and his smile is cruel, "I'm not the last scion of the Shimada clan, am I?" Hanzo huffs, clearly annoyed, which almost shocks Genji. His brother, the implacable, unflappable future leader. 

"If anything happens to me, you will be," Hanzo says, and his voice is tinged with something dark and foreboding. "Shape up, brother." He sighs, dropping out of his fighting stance and runs his hands through his long hair. "Look, Genji, I only say this because I care about you. It's that girl, isn't it." Genji's movements still and he stiffly turns his face away from his brother, but he nods. 

_Of course it was her._

He'd grown up not expecting an emotional bond, not with his life, what he was expected to become. Never linger too long. He slept around, it was fun at first, but then he realised he'd been looking for something, someone, to sate the growing hunger that gnawed at his insides, the hunger to be touched and caressed and kissed beyond someone wanting his body but not his self, or his money but not his love. He's always been good at reading people, but not being read; they want the money, the status, the sex. They don't know what he wants. Perhaps they'll see him as a lover, perhaps not. His father tolerated it, turned a blind eye, said it helped him blow off steam, but now Genji's close to boiling over and it's all because in two or three brief touches the hunger in his belly had abated for a night or two, and the close distance between their lips had come, unbidden, to him almost every night like a haunting that he just can't exorcise. 

"It might be," he responds eventually, beginning to unpeel the tape from around his hands. The movement is soothing; round, round, round, endless. "But you can't.. I can't..." Hanzo shrugs eventually, cutting off Genji's stammering. He heads for the door, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder.

"Get it together. Hit the showers."

***

Genji follows his advice, but he flees to the relative privacy of his ensuite shower room, stripping out of his sweat-soaked workout clothes as he goes, as fast as he can. He throws himself under the water, willing the cold of it to stave off the inevitable. 

Her voice comes to him, the sight of her bare back as he unzipped her dress. His mind helpfully supplies the rest; what could have happened, would have happened, if he'd slid the zipper down a little further, slipped his hands inside the silk against her cool, smooth skin, kneaded the breasts that he'd felt pressed against him when they hugged. He knew that she would gasp for him and oh, how he _longs_ to elicit that and more from that slender throat, and to mark the column of it with his teeth. 

He's braced against the shower wall with one arm, his lower lip gripped vice-like within his teeth, eyes closed as he encircles his cock in one hand, pumping in time to the falling water. He doesn't care to keep his motions gentle, his imagination running away with him, imagining the new girl showing up like she had before, utterly indecent with her long legs bare in those little shorts, joining him under the water, falling to her knees with those lips, _those lips_ , wrapped around him and those gorgeous, shining eyes fixed on his and she'd-

_she wouldn't_   
_she would_   
_she could_   
_she-_

His pace stutters and he fights back a groan, swallowing the sound as hard as he can, head falling forwards under the water. His arm is cramping but the hot, velvet coil of his release is rapidly tightening in the pit of his stomach and he chases it with the memory of her bared back and the curve of her throat behind his eyelids, and it with that and her name on his lips that he comes, panting, into his fist.

He stays like that, palming himself under the water, for a little while longer, and then slams his free fist into the wall, silently cursing himself. Weak. She makes him weak.

He finishes his shower, washing himself off quickly and retires to his room for a while, laying on his bed draped in a towel.

He naps, restlessly, exhausted suddenly, but it is with a smile on his face.

***

It is knocking that awakes him, much later than he intended, the sun low in the sky. He jerks upright and calls out to the person at the door as he dresses hurriedly.

"Just a second, who is it?"

Hanzo is the owner of the voice that rings back to him. "It's me, brother, I thought perhaps we could talk-" The reply is cut off as Genji throws the door wide and hugs his brother.

"I'm sorry, for how I've been acting," Genji says, quickly, before his older brother can cut him off. "I'll try harder, you- you need me to step up." Hanzo peels Genji's arms off his shoulders almost distastefully, but he is laughing as he does it.

"Well, that pretty much ruined the rest of the talk, spoilers, Genji," Hanzo says, lips stretching into a catlike smile not unlike Genji's own. "Maybe we could go for a drink anyway?" Genji nods, turning to grab a jacket and following his brother out the doors.

"You sure there's no ulterior motive here?" Genji asks, and Hanzo slings an arm across his shoulders.

"There might still be a talk," he admits, rolling his eyes, "But I promise not to drag it on too long."

***

The moon had chased the sun from the sky some time ago, the indigo of night tinging the pale blue of the sunset like ink in water, and the Shimada brothers had sunk more than their fair share each of sake.

"I just want you to be happy," Hanzo admits, head bowed low over his glass, "But I also _need_ what is best for the clan, I just- I want you to understand me." Genji is slouched back in his seat, and he blearily lifts his head to look across at his brother, realising in the process that he has spilt half his glass across his lap. 

"I know. I know," he replies, squinting into the bottom of his glass, confused at it's lack of alcohol content. "She just makes me happy, you know? I finally get it. That feeling. That softness, the lightness, the unbearably long-vision, like I can see straight into the future, the-" He stops, laughing at his brother who is mock-retching over Genji's sentimentality. Jumping to his feet with surprising agility given his level of drunkenness, Hanzo holds out an arm for Genji who takes it gratefully and allows himself to be dragged out into the cold night.

"Ahhhhhh," Genji sighs, sobered a little by the frigid air, "It's been too long since we've done this. Remember last time, when that girl wouldn't stop hitting on you? What was her name again? Ma- no, Mi... Whatever. She didn't stop, no matter how many times I told her that you're-". Their laughter was interrupted, something which Genji was experiencing with alarming regularity today, and the interruption sent a chill down his spine. He had no doubt the same chill had hit his brother, as Hanzo stiffened with a shiver, all mirth dripping from his face like melted wax.

The bells atop Shimada Castle were tolling. 

The brothers shot each other a look - equal parts worry, resignation, pain - and took off at a sprint, jumping trash cans and ducking under low-hanging branches, the way home memorised in their sinews since the age of eight, each matching speed and pace, barely breathing.

They crash through the front gates, panting and looking for someone, anyone to answer them. People are spilling out into the courtyard as the lanterns come on; the dorms remain dark and quiet. A black-suited bodyguard stops and bows to them before explaining quickly what is happening. Genji can barely hear over the roar of the blood in his ears, swears he can hear the sweat screaming up through his pores and ripping down his face in rivulets, but he catches the most important part.

"- your father is dead-"

_Away!_ screams his subconcious. _Get out of here! Go! Flight! Flight!_ And the sparrow does as commanded, he takes to the wing against the protests he can't make out from his brother, unable to tell the tang of his sweat from the salt of his tears. He grits his teeth and tastes blood, spits it onto the flagstones as he pushes through throngs of confused noblemen and allies, lets his feet take them where they will.

He finds himself up against a wall, lined with windows, away from the madding crowd, and understands what he must do. Finding handholds, he scampers up the wall, three stories up, and perches on the window ledge on the outside of the dorms. He knows this window, he can see it from across the courtyard, often finds himself watching for a twitched curtain, a glimpse of that beautiful face to stoke his longing, quiet his demons.

The demons will need more than that tonight.

He taps on the window with his fingertips and it slides upwards and open almost as once. His name falls from her lips and it sounds like a music box, twinkling and delicate. He almost bowls her over climbing in the window, and before he knows it he is on his knees before her, cheek pressed against the rigid mountain of her hipbone. His arms encircle her and her hands, those lovely hands, wind into his hair, soothing and petting.

"Genji? What is it? What's happening? I heard bells..." 

He lifts his head, tilts it back, to take in her face. If she is shocked by him, tear-stained and sweating, it does not show. He is a pilgrim knelt in supplication before his saint, seeking release and answers and so many other things that he knows she cannot give, but the hunger in his stomach has faded to nothing and his explanations die on his lips in another wave of sobs. She lowers herself to his level, thumbs wiping at the tears as the pulse, white-hot, from his eyes. Her voice is a litany when she speaks again.

"Stay, stay here, you can't go anywhere like this, speak to me please, you're scaring me."

He turns his head, plants a kiss on her palm and murmurs into the damp skin there.

"I'll stay. Give me... a little while."

And then his head bows again and she gathers him to her, seeking comfort in her warmth, her softness.

"Take as long as you need. I'm here. I'm here."

He believes her.


	7. Our Gentle Choreography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I'm sorry this is so much later than I said it would be, I've been really sick lately and my brain feels like it's full of fog. I'll get chapter 8 done sooner to make up for it!

"Take as long as you need. I'm here. I'm here."

You are knelt on your bedroom floor, disheveled from sleep, awoken not long ago by the pealing of bells outside. You cradle Genji in your arms and he cleaves and clings to you, shaking with the force of the sobs that choke him. Your hands find his hair, his back, petting, caressing. He shudders in your grasp once more then leans back; tear-stained, his lower lip in tatters from his chewing, his jaw trembles. 

"I'm sorry, to come to you like this I-" Genji removes an arm from you to muss his hair; the black roots have almost eliminated the green now, night sky and wildflower field. "I don't want to talk. Not tonight. I just want to sleep." He lowers his forehead to your shoulder, shifting your top against your skin; it is damp with his tears. You rub small circles into his back with your fingertips, the same way he usually traces the hollows of your throat, and he rumbles appreciatively, shifting closer. Your bodies are flush together now, pressed flat like pages in a book, and your pulse quickens at his proximity, despite everything. You slowly rise to your feet, bringing him with you, like a dance, a ballet in slow motion; first position, second, third. He is taller than you when you're on your feet, but he curls around you like a plant, coiling in tendrils around your arms, turning towards your face as if seeking sunlight. Silently, you peel him from you, taking his hand and lead him to your narrow bed. You lay him down, smoothing his hair from a sweat-damp forehead. You do not join him.

"Thank you," he says quietly, capturing your wrist between long fingers. "For letting me stay. For not pushing. I just need... rest." His eyes close and he brings your hand to his lips, gently touching each fingertip to his lips, a reverential and chaste kiss on each pad. A wave of daring sweeps through you, faster than a blink, and you lean in and kiss his forehead. He doesn't stir, but the ghost of a smile twitches his lips. The salt tang of his sweat clings to your lower lip, and your tongue peeks out between them, an exploratory taste of the man who had run to you in his distress. You felt you should ask why, why you, why now, why why why ringing in your head like the bells, but the sight of his chest rising and falling in the steady ebb of sleep stops you. 

Rising, you begin to pace, as quietly as you can. What could have caused this? Would he tell you tomorrow? Would he even _be_ here in the morning? 

_Would you even see him again after this?_

You shake your head, turning on your heel again and again as you walk the length of your small room in just a few paces. It had to mean something that he'd come to you first when he was like this, right? Maybe? Behind you, Genji calls your name, softly. It is a familiar song, and you know all the steps to the dance that goes with it; point your toe, turn, stop, step.

The next time you turn he is sitting up in bed. The cover is bunched around his waist, his elbow resting on his knee so that he can prop his head up on his hands. The glint of those dark eyes from across the room is enticing, even now, and you approach him, perching awkwardly on the edge of your own bed. When he speaks, his voice is a hoarse whisper.

"I'd never forgive myself if I fell asleep without kissing you."

You chuckle despite yourself, drawing inexorably closer to him. Your noses bump and he smiles a little, just enough to hint at the dimples by the hollow of his cheek. Your eyelashes are touching every time one of you blinks, but still you haven't kissed.

"That was a cheesy line, Shimada." At you response his smile widens, and you raise your eyes to see that his are closed. His lashes cast spiky, tear-hardened shadows on his cheekbones. 

"I guess I'm a cheesy guy, when it comes to you," he says. He is desperately, dangerously, delectably close to your lips now. A hand, his hand, comes upwards to meet your face, the thumb dragging slowly across a cheekbone, the fingertips grazing your earlobe sending a chill across your face and down your spine all at once. You feel, more than hear his next words, breathed out against your own lips, tasting his voice.

"Just a goodnight kiss. A dream to keep the nightmares out."

You're not quite sure who closes the distance. 

It is a clumsy meeting of lips, exploratory, tentative. Your eyes are closed like his and it seems that all your senses start and end at your lips, covered oh so perfectly with his. They are soft, despite their ragged appearance from the ministrations of his teeth, and you find yourself tilting your head to the side to better feel them against your own. They are warm, just like the rest of him, just like the arms that are snaking around you, pulling you closer, closer, pressed against his chest so that you can feel his heart thumping alongside yours, the two beating out a magnificent tattoo against your ribs. It is over as quickly as it had begun, and you open your eyes to find his staring back, bright and mischievous and full of awe, pupils blown huge and black. He rests his forehead against yours, a hand mapping your arm from shoulder to wrist and back again. You lean in again and kiss him, a small, chaste kiss, but Genji hums almost happily anyway.

"C'mon, I've kept you awake too long," he whispers, shuffling over on the bed to make room for you. It isn't much space, given how small the bed is, but you lay down on your side, facing away from him. His hot breath mists across your back, tickles the nape of your neck, and you can't seem to get your heart to stop wildly beating in your chest. "Do you mind if I-?" He holds up and arm by way of explanation - _he wants to hold you?_ You nod your assent and find yourself pulled backwards against his chest, his chin resting atop your head, the offered arm around your waist. 

He falls asleep not long afterwards, and you lie awake in the dark, marveling at the turn this night took.

***

You are awoken by knocking, and almost jump out of bed to answer the door, but the arms around you tighten and Genji burrows into the side of your neck with a sleepy little whine.

" _Noooooo_ , you're not getting up yet. I'm your boss, technically, and that's an order." He gently nuzzles his nose just behind your ear, your skin sweat-damp from sleep, and you almost melt back into his arms but the knocking begins again, louder and more insistent. With a petulant sigh, it is Genji that gets up and answers the door, with you following close behind hissing protests.

"I'm afraid she's busy," Genji says nonchalantly, almost cockily, as he throws the door open and leans on the frame. "Oh! Poppy, right?" He is indeed right; your friend is standing in the doorway looking like all her Christmases had come at once, despite her red-ringed eyes. You can't tell if she's been crying or she hasn't slept - maybe both? You push him aside and he goes back to your bed, hands raised in defeat. 

"Uh, what's up Poppy?"

Poppy stands there with her mouth gaping open, gaze flicking between you and the space where Genji was, a million questions clearly racing over and over in her mind. Her hand is still raised to knock on the door. If you weren't so concerned, you might find it funny.

"Earth to Poppy, come in Poppy?" She shakes her head like a dog emerging from a lake, drops her hand. She's blushing now, the colour creeping up her face like she's boiling, almost a match for her fiery hair.

"Uh, I just came to tell you that everyone's got the day off today, for mourning, and the wake's tomorrow and the funeral the day after and, and, uh." She's talking so fast, 100 miles a minute, but her speech stops with the immediacy of a brick wall across a highway. "Ha-Hanzo's looking for..." She shoots a pointed gaze over your shoulder at Genji, who is looking out of your wide window, still open from his entrance through it in the dead of night. "Are you- Did you-?" You shake your head, lowering your voice.

"He needed a place to crash, he just showed up," you say, offering a little shrug. "I'll make sure he gets to Hanzo." You step towards her and wrap your arms around Poppy in a hug, which she gratefully returns, the two of you speaking in hushed, hurried whispers.

"Your hair stinks of cologne."

"Nothing happened."

"I know, I believe you."

"Poppy, I-"

"Be careful, okay?"

She pulls back, gives you a sad smile, and then she's gone, shutting the door behind her. You turn back to Genji, who is leaning on your windowsill, framed by the morning light like a halo. He looks to you like one of those old Renaissance paintings of a saint, ringed in gold and silver to show their beauty, the angular planes of his nose and cheekbones glowing in the pinkish light, even the shadows under his eyes and in the hollows of his throat look rich and lush and velvety. He is a masterpiece, worth more than you can imagine, and there within touching distance in your very own room. The word _chiaroscuro_ comes to mind, unexpectedly. 

"Genji," you call, throat tight and scratchy, thirsty first thing in the morning. "Mourning _who_?" 

He turns to you, slowly, a waltz of a turn, and the rising sun halos him even more, glinting off his green hair and lighting him up like a solar flare from behind. You can see the pulse thrumming in his neck from here and the urge to kiss it once on every beat of his heart rises up within you like a tidal wave. You hold back. He looks down, avoiding your eyes. A tear spills, almost artfully, down his cheek, dying on his lips. 

"My, uh. My father, actually." 

You can almost hear the shatter as his heart breaks in front of you.

***

Genji regales you with the whole sorry tale, of his night out with Hanzo and what they'd spoken of, of the bells dragging him home, of finding out his father had died and, finally, of his flight from the courtyard to your arms.

"And, well, you know what happened after that." He still hasn't looked at you, sitting on the floor under your window now, wreathed in shadow. You sit beside him, one hand clasping one of his, squeezing to bring him back to you. 

"You... you should really go," you say quietly, gazing at your hands as he twines his fingers between yours, "To Hanzo. Your brother needs you right now, Genji." He lets out a dismissive huff.

"It's up to the eldest to do the arrangements for father's funeral," he says, tracing the hard peak of your thumb joint with his thumb, "And the other elders will descend on the castle today and tomorrow. To fix Hanzo as the successor." Almost subconsciously, he raises his other hand and traces the fading scar above his eyebrow - Yuuto would be back, then. "I have somewhere I need to go, I go there sometimes, to think. I-" He finally, finally turns to you, nudges your nose with his to make you smile, releases your hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "I'd like you to come with me. If you want?" He adds this last part hurriedly, and you can tell that he doesn't want to order you around, that your employer was left at the door (or rather, the window) and the man you kissed last night and held as he cried is just Genji. Not Genji Shimada the ninja, or Genji Shimada the playboy, the noble son, the joker, the trickster, the younger brother - just Genji, as raw and exposed as the jagged flesh along an open wound. You nod, and he quickly kisses your forehead.

"Get dressed for a hike, bring a bathing suit. Meet me by the back gate, the little one out by the kitchens. I'll be waiting." 

***

As promised he is there, his bright hair disguised under a hoodie. He takes your hand and spirits you out the gate, which is unguarded today, because of course it is, and soon you are outside the confines of Shimada Castle, beyond the walls, beyond the reach of Hanzo and the elders, out into the trees and on a trail that twists into the mountains beyond.

"Where is this place you're taking me anyway?" you ask, slightly behind Genji now on the narrow trail. "You could be kidnapping me for all I know." Genji laughs in response, a low chuckle that you knew would rumble through his chest so loud you could feel it if you wanted. 

"It's a surprise," he says, half turning back to you, the weak sunlight glinting on his cheekbones and eyelashes. You felt as though he might blind you. "I told you, I just go there to think sometimes, for a break, maybe to meditate." He shrugs and turns away, and you catch the barest hint of a smile. Feeling brave, and so removed from the tragedy below up here among the trees, you tease him.

"You ever think of me up there?"

He's still facing away from you, but you can hear the smile that breaks across his face in the lilt of his voice, the brightness of his tone. It is music to you, and you feel the steps to it's beat in your limbs, in the steady pulse at your throat. 

"Lately? Constantly." 

***

It turns out the place is a series of hot springs, pools of hot, clear water that shimmer with steam in the sunlight. It's deserted; Genji must have found this place on his own. At least you know why he wanted you to bring a bathing suit now. You pause, wiping sweat from your brow, tired from the walk. You had to admit, the warm water looked mighty tempting...

Not nearly as tempting as your guide however.

Within seconds of arriving he had divested of his clothes, planes of hard muscle gliding beneath his golden-brown skin, the bridge of his collarbone poking out as he rolls his shoulders, leaving you with the strange urge to run your tongue along it and twirl it in the hollow at the base of his throat. Genji coughs and you look away, but not before noticing that his cheeks are as red as you're sure yours are. There's a faint splash as he slips into the water, and you tentatively turn back to see him floating on his back, eyes closed and face upturned to the sun. His lips are quirked up in a smile, the only thing that stops you thinking that he's asleep, and you lower yourself to sit at the water's edge, feet dangling in the warm water. 

"Are you getting in or what?"

His eyes haven't opened but that smile has cranked up another notch, and you kick out a foot, splashing him. The droplets skate over his body, dipping in and out of the contours between his muscles, and you almost regret splashing him because somehow, _somehow_ , it had just made him better looking. His hand comes up and catches your kicked-out foot, and one of his dark eyes opens, glinting. 

"You're getting in one way or another."

You narrow your eyes at him, floating on the water, seemingly without a care in the world. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Go on then, I dare you."

His other eye opens as he straightens up in the water, submerged up to his chest, droplets rolling from his hair down his face. He grins that wicked grin at you, the same one you'd spotted across dinner tables and courtyards and gyms, the one that reminds you of a jungle cat about to strike. 

"A dangerous thing to say," he replies and then you're racing into the water with a splash, completely submerged and you surface, coughing and splashing, with little hurt but your dignity.

"You did dare me!" Genji says, trying to justify himself even as he's patting you on the back as though to dislodge the water. "Isn't it much nicer in here though?" He stops patting you on the back, but his arm stays looped around your shoulders, holding you as you lift your feet off the ground and float in his grasp. Thank God you'd remembered to wear your bathing suit under your regular clothes. 

"I did, that's true," you admit, shrugging your way out of your now soaked t-shirt and shorts, and kicking off your shoes. Genji tosses your clothing to the side of the pool as it floats up, never taking his hand off you. Once it's just the two of you in the water, his hands are suddenly everywhere; your face, your hair, splayed across your back to keep you close. His eyes don't leave your face, scanning back and forth as though reading, studying you. You bite your lip under his scrutiny, but you cannot deny that you're doing the same back. His eyes are wide and glinting under thick brows, and there's a smattering of freckles from the sun across his high, sharp cheekbones. His nose is angular and, you have to admit, adorable. And his lips, the lips you'd kissed just once, they were lush and warm and the memory of their softness set off a flush in your cheeks. He clearly noticed, because those lips spread into a smile, just as dazzling as every one before it, and your gaze flicked back to his eyes. They were watching you with some kind of mischievous awe.

"I can't believe I haven't kissed you yet," he says, almost whispering, and a hand comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear. When you open your mouth to remind him about your kiss the night before, he silences you with a finger over your lips. "Ah, ah. Yesterday doesn't count. That was a kiss goodnight. This one is just because I want to." And then he kisses you again with a little satisfied hum, and you can taste the salt of the water on his lips and past that a warm, sweet taste that you were coming to realise was all Genji. He takes your lower lip between his own and gently grazes it with his teeth, giving you an appreciative rumble in his throat as he does. Your mouths part with a soft sigh, mingled between the two of you, and your faces stay so close, noses bumping. 

"Now _that_ ," he says, swimming back a little towards the edge of the pool, "Was a proper first kiss."

***

It had been hours of floating and talking, keeping the conversation as light as your limbs in the water, not addressing what awaited back at the castle, and now you sat at the edge of the hot spring again, catching the last rays of the sun as it fades behind the mountains. Genji was drying his hair, ruffling it with a towel, and you looked up from lacing your shoes to speak to him.

"The wake's tomorrow, Genji. You're gonna have to see Hanzo at some point, y'know?" You can't see his face, but he stops drying and stiffens, before nodding quickly, once. "I know you might not be... ready, I guess? But, you can't put this off." You stand and walk towards him, putting a tentative hand on his back and rubbing in circles. His shoulders sag as he relaxes, hands falling to his sides. You stand, the pair of you, poised to move, awaiting your cue from each other.

"I meant what I said, you know. I'm here, if you need me."

This seems to strike a chord with him, because Genji turns, almost a pirouette, and crushes you against his chest, whispering a thanks into your hair as he buries his face in it. Your arms are around him before you realise, and you burrow into his chest, warm and safe despite the clinging dampness of the swim.

"I'll talk to him tonight, I swear, just..." He pauses, pulls back, looks you square in the face. His smile has faded, his eyes grave, like two chips of granite. "I needed this you have no idea how much... How you have..." He pulls you back in, squashing the air from your lungs before you frantically tap him, and he loosens his grip with a smiling apology.

The walk back is silent, but in the way that any words would ruin rather than improve, a warm silence under the slices of fading sunlight that cascade down through the trees. You are hand in hand with Genji this time, linked like a chain.

You wish the walk would never end.

***

You're barely through the back gate again when you know something is different. 

There are strangers milling about, mostly older, regal-looking men and their bodyguards, all in black suits, ranging from men to women, even to omnics, all of whom were getting sideways glances from every direction. 

In the middle of all this was Hanzo. When you saw him, he was leaning in close to one of the older men, listening to his whispers. Part of you hoped the whisper was a message of condolence; the rest of you knew it wouldn't be. Genji squeezed your shoulder gently, seemingly surprised at the appearance of his brother. A young man in yellow is watching you from a little way away; Yuuto. His face was dark, eyebrows knitted together, arms crossed so tightly you can almost hear the joints in his fingers creak. The atmosphere around the castle seemed darker too, despite the final rays of sun illuminating the blossom-heavy trees.

"I should go to Hanzo," Genji says, and you get the feeling that he's saying it to himself more than to you. Looking around furtively, he offers you a small smile and plants a quick kiss on your head, so brief you would not have noticed it if not for the spreading warmth. "Get back to the dorms. It's... It's going to be hard for a while. To see you." He swallows, and you see his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "But I will, I promise you that." He releases your shoulder, straightens himself up, makes to cross the courtyard, turning back before he leaves.

"I'll make sure you stay safe. You'll see."

***

Poppy is sat open-mouthed on your bed as you finish telling her about your night and day with Genji. She's twirling a feather between your fingers; it had been left on your pillow, with a note attached to it containing a phone number and the familiar signature of ' _G xxx_ '. 

"Japanese sparrowhawk," Poppy had said, holding it up to the light. "They live in the mountains. Guess it's some kind of calling card." Now, you took it off her and dropped it in the empty vase on your bedside table, collapsing onto the bed beside her.

"Give it to me straight, Pop," you say with a sigh, dragging your hands down your face. "Am I crazy?" She laughs and nudges you with her foot until you move over.

"Maybe a little," she admits. She pops a piece of gum in her mouth, hands you a piece. The two of you chew in companionable silence for a moment. She breaks it by bursting a sugar-pink bubble right next to your ear. 

"Okay, okay, maybe more than a little," she admits with a laugh as you squeal in shock. "But I gotta wonder, what'd he mean about making sure you stay safe?"

You sit up, glancing across at the feather in the vase before you look back at your friend, who appears to be picking gum out of her curly hair.

"I guess things are gonna get kinda strange around here for a while."


	8. Rubatosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat. 
> 
> I'm sorry this is a little late, it took me a while to write because life is crazy rn!

The day of the wake dawns bright and chilly, and you stand with the rest of the staff, wrapped in black like a shadow, at the back of the courtyard outside the Shimada temple. Poppy is on your left, tears dripping down her nose, distorting her freckles. Kenshin, the omnic from before, is on your right, and he offered your shoulder a friendly squeeze, a reassuring touch. There had been a thing on the news this morning, that blonde commander from Overwatch talking about what was going to happen to the omniums now; you could hardly believe that Kenshin's people were involved in the crisis a few years ago. 

Everyone had filed past the coffin to pay their respects not long ago, Sojiro lying in repose in his white outfit. People had tucked items in alongside him; a pack of cigarettes, three coins, a pair of whittled wooden dragons - green and blue, Genji and Hanzo, his sons. You had seen them, too, and they were stiff and awkward in their suits, not once looking at each other or speaking. The staff had heard things, because of course they had, scurrying unseen and uncared for under all the politicking happening in the void left by Sojiro Shimada; Genji and Hanzo had been arguing, the other elders were unhappy with one, or the other, or both, one brother refused to deal with something, something shady and unmentionable. The staff heard much, understood less, and repeated less still, at least where they would be overheard.

A woman approaches you now, holding a lit taper so that she might light the incense that you had been given, one stick per person who entered the wake. The thick smoke curls up towards your eyes and you squint, dislodging the tears that clung to your eyelashes. You place the stick in a holder at your feet; thousands upon thousands of tendrils of smoke meander into the air, turning it thick and fragrant. There is a thump from the temple, perhaps the closing of the coffin if the increase in sobbing around you is any indication. It isn't long until you are being shepherded away to your usual duties, or to the dorms. Poppy links her hand with yours on one side, and on the other you take Kenshin's. 

You begin to walk home. You do not look back.

This is a mistake.

"I would have thought you'd have been fired for that stunt you pulled," a voice, seedy and low, says from behind you. "Fraternizing with the boss and _assaulting_ me, after all." 

Your blood runs cold as you let go of your friends hands to face Yuuto. He is staring you down, jaw set and eyes like two flakes of ice, his usual cocky arrogance replaced by something darker, harder. He takes a step closer to you and you fight the urge to take a step back, clenching your hands into fists.

"Things are gonna change around here," he all but whispers, his voice a reptilian hiss. The throngs of people coming out of the temple have narrowed, and you can see the Shimada brothers over his shoulder before Yuuto takes hold of your face, pinching your chin, forcing your gaze back to him. Your stomach roils sickly in response. "You hear me? Heh. Maybe it should have been your precious sparrow that died, let him rejoin that mother he never knew." Yuuto's voice has risen exponentially and you tear yourself from his grasp as Poppy takes your upper arm, steering you away from him before you could spit in his face or something. Yuuto is out of breath from yelling in your face, his suit crumpled.

As you are led away there is the sound of a scuffle and you look back this time; Hanzo has an arm around Genji from behind, restraining his younger brother who is straining, stretching, fighting to get at Yuuto. His face is a mask of perfect calm, but every muscle is tensed to spring, and before you are out of view Hanzo has dragged Genji back into the temple. Yuuto lights a cigarette, tinging the incense thick air with the acrid tobacco smoke.

Poppy sniffs heavily and then sniggers, surprising you.

"I mean, you manage to make even a goddamn funeral interesting," she says, her voice cracking and she giggles again, helplessly. "C'mon, we'll go back to my room, watch some TV, order takeout. You ever wonder how she gets herself into these things, Kenshin?" Poppy jabs her head pointedly at you, but she is smiling now. Kenshin shrugs, making his too-large suit sleeves wiggle comically on his skinny metal arms.

"I try to stay out of the way, I suppose." 

You think that's the end of it, but the omnic tilts his head towards yours and speaks again, and you swear there is something approaching amusement in his calm synthetic voice.

"You ought to try it too."

***

Poppy's room is much more comfortable than yours, more lived-in, and the TV babbles companionably in the background as you eat in silence. Noodles and chopsticks, slurp and click. Kenshin is channel surfing, given control of the remote while you two eat, and Poppy stops him with a slap on a news bulletin. The Overwatch commander is back, talking to the UN about omnics yet again. You half-watch, thoughts drifting.

"They're pretty cool, aren't they? Overwatch, I mean."

Poppy's voice pulls you from your reverie, and you nod enthusiastically.

*Yeah, I remember seeing them fight, on TV," you admit, stirring your food about rather than eating it. "I wanted to join, more than anything for a while, but I'm hardly a soldier." Poppy snorts at this and nods, tapping her foot. 

"You could go and do science I guess? Live on the moon or in the desert or something," she replies, tapping her fingernails on the shiny dome of Kenshin's head. "You okay watching this? You're awful quiet." He shrugs again, but doesn't offer an answer. Poppy abandons her food and pulls her knees to her chest, a wicked grin taking over her face.

"Tell you what'll get you two talking again," she says cryptically, and then clears her throat, pointing at the television. "Fuck, marry, kill. Commander Morrison-" The blonde man in blue, with the half-visor. "Captain Amari-" A dark-haired woman with a tattoo around her eye. "And uhhh-" She jabs her finger as the camera focuses on another man in Overwatch blue, a skinny guy with a pencil thin moustache and slicked-back hair. "That guy. Gerard something." 

"Lacroix," says Kenshin, finally speaking up. "And kill him. Marry Amari, fuck the strike commander." You and Poppy both groan at his answer, although the ridiculous game, the mainstay of middle school sleepovers and bored lunchroom chats, lifts your spirits slightly. Your confrontation with Yuuto is more like a story that happened to someone else; he cannot touch you, here in the warm safety of the dorms. Poppy gives her answer ("fuck the French guy, marry Commander Morrison, kill Amari") and then turns to you.

"God, I dunno. Same as you, I guess." Your friend rolls her eyes and gives you a light punch in the shoulder. 

"Lazy answer," she complains, rolling onto her back and snatching the TV remote from Kenshin, gives you an upside down lopsided grin. "How about I make it easier for you? Fuck, marry, kill: Hanzo, Genji, Yuuto." Kenshin makes a whirring noise that might have been a laugh, and you gag dramatically, rising to your feet and grabbing your jacket.

"Kill Yuuto," you say quickly, heading for the door. "I plead the Fifth on the rest of that." Poppy is making whiny protest noises as you start to leave. "Hey, I've got an early morning tomorrow! And so do you!" You kick the door open, throwing finger-guns and a wink at Poppy as you go, letting the door slam behind you.

Your phone buzzes impatiently in your pocket almost as soon as the door clicks closed.

_Your light's still off. Where are you? G xxx_

You roll your eyes and quickly type a message back: **Poppy's. Stop watching my window, weirdo.** It wasn't the first exchange you'd had this way, you had text him early this morning, a long message full of luck and hope for what would undoubtedly be a long day. He had replied quickly, brusquely. 

You are in the stairwell when Genji's next message comes, and you can almost hear that lilt of laughter in his voice through the screen: _Weirdo? Madam, you wound me. I just... worry. Lately._ You slip your phone back into your pocket as you bounce down the stairs, with a smile ghosting across your lips. Entering the room, you flick the lights on and off three or four times, just to startle him and then duck under your window shade and wave in his general direction; you cannot see his window in the dark, but you know sort of where it is. Your phone buzzes again as if on cue.

_Good, you're back. Get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna be busy tomorrow, obviously. But I've figured out a way to keep you safe! Sweet dreams koneko._

The pet name catches you off guard; you figure he's just feeling a little over-sentimental today, and you can hardly blame him. Quickly stripping and ducking into bed with the lights off, you idly run a finger up and down the silken length of the feather at your bedside, a reminder that this wasn't some romantic daydream or fantastical fever dream. 

You fall asleep, the quiet repose of night taking you with your hand still curled over the feather; a protective shell, a shelter.

***

"Heads up!"

You jump as a massive ladle clatters into the sink next to yours, where you are currently up to your elbows in suds and crockery. The thrower of the ladle punches the air in victory and you irritably blow a lock of hair out of your face, going back to your scrubbing. The funeral was going on right now, in a crematorium on the other side of the city, but your mourning days were cut short by the fact that there was just too much to do around the castle; Hanzo had decided, or rather, Hanzo had announced on behalf of the other family elders that normal operations were resumed. The whole kitchen was abuzz with grumpy, tired staff, a low hum of grumbling pervading most of the day. You'd already had to do laundry and sweep one of the courtyards, and your arms were starting to ache, along with your chin; you'd discovered this morning that Yuuto had grabbed hard enough to bruise, a set of splotchy purple marks along your jaw. Poppy had seen them and immediately wanted to march off and punch the smug asshole square in the nose, but you'd managed to talk her down.

"Your face looks a little better," she says now as though she read your mind, shoving pots into a cupboard next to you with a grunt. "Makeup?" You nod and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, face darkening like a thunderstorm. "What a twat. I still can't believe what he said about Mrs. Shimada. She uh, died," Poppy adds in response to your questioning look. "Giving birth to Genji. I think that's why Sojiro doted on him so much." Her face clears with a small, sad smile. "Still, the funeral's today and then I guess everything goes back to normal?" 

You pluck a plate out of the water and inspect it for any more dried-on food. "We can only hope, I suppose. What is normal around here anyway?" Poppy snorts at that and bustles away to go back to her duties. You phone buzzes against your hip in your pocket and you frown, confused; surely Genji wouldn't text you in the middle of his father's funeral? You signal to your boss that you need a minute and duck out of the back door into an alleyway between buildings, dark and damp and cool.

Turns out, the text is from your mom, demanding you call her. _Oh Christ._

"Hey, hey ma," you say into the mic, having dialled as quickly as humanly possible. "What's up?" Your mother squawks in response, and you can tell that at least she's excited to hear from you.

"Sweetie! I just missed you I guess and I saw on the news about the Shimada guy passing away and I was worried!" Your mother's voice is tinny and far away through the phone, but you smile anyway. "You're okay right? You're not in danger? Not gonna lose your job?" She pauses for a minute. "Although that would mean you could come home." You laugh a little at that; trust your mother to worry about you even now.

"Don't worry, no danger here," you reassure her, although the way Genji's been worrying about you lately gives you pause. "And from the way they're working us today, I'm pretty sure the job is safe. How about you? You okay?"

What follows is a long tirade of news from home about people you're not sure you even know, most of it inane and boring, but you humour her with oohs and ahhs and 'well I never!'s anyway. It feels good to talk about nothing for a little while, and you find yourself sniffing back a few tears, which _of course_ she notices.

"Oh honey, what's wrong?" You sniffle in response, leaning against the wall next to the kitchen door.

"I just miss you, I guess," you admit, awkwardly fiddling with your loose bits of hair. 

"I miss you too," comes the reply, followed by a brighter-voiced follow up. "Hey, it can't be all bad! I saw those Shimada brothers on the news too, they're cute! Especially that Hanzo." You choke out a laugh, and briefly toy with the idea of telling her about Genji, but then your boss bangs on the window next to your head and you yelp in surprise.

"Yeah, it's not all bad," you say, finally smiling. "Look, I gotta go. Take care of yourself okay? Love you."

***

It isn't until later that you hear from Genji; he sends you a voice message, a short and un-screenshot-able missive.

"Meet me later in the gym," he whispers, the sound of closing car doors and muttered sympathies in the background. His low voice next to your ear makes the hairs on your neck stand up. "Wear something comfy. Midnight, don't be late. I-" The message cuts off as another voice cuts across Genji's, likely Hanzo. You listen to it over again, sitting under one of the heavy-boughed blossom trees in the fading light. Across the way someone in the same uniform as you is washing the red ink from Sojiro's name on a memorial wall, turning it the same colour as his wife's, and you watch the trail of soapy red water trail off into the gaps between the flagstones, filling them like pale blood. 

You think about texting Genji and asking for a clarification on the voice message, or even marching yourself up to his room and knocking on the door until he answers you, but you decide that you'll try and like surprises, just this one time.

***

You duck out of the dorms at ten to midnight, pulling your hoodie up to cover your hair as you sprint from shadow to shadow on the way to the gym; while there was no actual written rule about staff being out of the dorms after hours you thought they might change their mind if they knew you were going to meet a Shimada in the dead of night. 

You slip in the door of the gym at a minute past midnight; it's dark and deserted, the only light a shaft of moonlight coming through the window, and you're divesting yourself of your hoodie when you're suddenly scooped up into the air and thrown across someone's shoulder with a yelp.

"Lesson number one," says Genji with a laugh, hooking his arm across your knees to keep you in place over his shoulder. "Never turn your back on a ninja." He spins around a couple of times, making you dizzy, and then sets you back on your feet, both of you giggling. He draws you to his chest, and the steady beat of his heart against your cheek helps reorient you, as you wrap your arms around him in turn.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he says quietly from above you, burying his face in your hair. You can feel him smile against the top of your head. "That squeak you made was pretty funny though." You bat at him playfully until he lets you go, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Ha, at least you're a fighter. That's good." He flicks a switch to his left and the lights in the gym go up, revealing a hanging punching bag and a table covered in various bits and pieces; boxing gloves, a staff of some kind, one of the wooden training katanas, even the familiar shurikens. He picks up the gloves and tosses them to you, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. "C'mon humour me. I taught you to throw a shuriken, now it's time you learned to throw a punch." 

"Genji. what's this about?" 

He ignores your question, instead coming over to help you tape your hands. You ask again. No answer. You tangle one taped hand in his hair, and his breath hitches, his gaze finally coming to meet yours.

"I just want to know you can look after yourself, okay?" His voice is so sincere and quiet, almost bashful, that all you can do is nod and put your gloves on. His grin in response was blinding. 

"Okay, okay," he said quickly, holding his hands up, covered in punch mitts. "Come on, koneko. Throw a punch." You began to circle each other on the bouncy, padded floor, both of you biting back grins.

"What's with the nickname anyway?" you ask, raising your gloved hands, guarding yourself. " _Kitten_ , right?" He nods, eyes glinting.

"Well, why not? You're cute." 

You blush and look away, and he takes the opportunity to feint at your head with one fist, making you jump backwards and fall onto your butt off the mat. He's scrambling down with a stricken look on his face when he realises that you're laughing and hauls you back to your feet.

"I know, never turn your back on a ninja," you say between peals of laughter, putting your arm to your mouth to contain the giggles. He gently pulls your arm back to your side and then swoops in, planting a kiss on your lips, silencing you.

"I think that's a point to me," he says against your lips and he pulls away, and the taste of him on your lower lip is as sweet as honey, as his voice. He leans back in, closing the breath of a distance and kisses you again. His tongue peeks out, brushes your lips, asks for entrance and you oblige, tilting your head to allow him access. Your gloved hands bump awkwardly against his chest but his one free hand pulls you closer, until he parts from your lips with a soft sigh. 

"Y'know, you're very easily distracted."

You have to smile at that. "Don't insult me when you're asking me to throw punches at you, Shimada."

His laugh resounds off the walls like a bell.

***

After a few rounds of practice boxing and another go at chucking shurikens ("you'll take someone's eye out with that!" "I thought that was the point?") you are a sweaty, panting mess. For once the same can be said for Genji, whose green hair is plastered to his forehead; you think he looks pretty adorable shoving it out of his eyes every couple of minutes, but you refrain from telling him so.

"Here," he says, handing you a bottle of water as he sits down on the floor next to you. "Y'know you actually gave me a run for my money there. Pretty hard to do." He adds this last part with a lopsided grin, gesturing around you at the castle, and you roll your eyes before taking his hand. Almost on reflex he curls his fingers between yours, smushing your sweaty palms together. You pull a face, but don't yank your hand away, regarding your twined fingers thoughtfully.

"You sure you're doing okay? The last couple of days must have..." You pause, looking for eloquence and gravitas to reflect the situation. Finding none, you soldier on regardless. "Must have sucked." He smiles ruefully, and it doesn't reach his eyes; it is more a stretching of his lips, as though caught on fish hooks.

"Couldn't have put it better myself. But I'll be okay. Life goes on, for the rest of us," he replies, speaking quickly. His thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, and you shudder. "I guess that's part of the reason I wanted to train you up a little I mean, people are gonna be different now, around us, Shimada or not. They respected my father, they will respect Hanzo. I don't know if I can make them respect me the same way. Just look at what Yuuto did-" His free hand gently traces down your jaw over the tender bruises on your skin. "I wanted to kill him. Right outside the temple where I'd just said goodbye to my father, and I was ready to commit murder." He chuckles darkly. You're not entirely sure he's kidding. 

He stands, holding out a hand to help you back to your feet. "Right, I'd better get you back to your room," he says, stifling a yawn, and a quick glance at your phone reveals that it's almost 4am; thank god you have the morning off the next day. "See you back here tomorrow, same time?"

"Really? Once wasn't enough?"

"Definitely not. You're gonna be a lean, mean, ninja-fighting machine by the time we're done."

"I cannot believe you just said that out loud."

He pauses, scratches the back of his neck bashfully, and breaks out into a grin as his cheeks flush. "Hey, me neither."

***

For two more nights in a row Genji pretty much kicks your ass. You manage to land a few hits on him the second night, and more the third, but he's too quick, and basically a drill sergeant. You can feel the amount of times he had you high-kick the punching bag in the dull ache of your thigh muscles, and you are bruised across your knuckles from the whack of a training katana. You had to admit it was kind of enjoyable, after a day at work, to just whale on the punching bag or Genji's punch mitts.

In fact, you'd shown up early this time, sneaking around staff headed to bed and even a couple of distant Shimada relatives so that you could get in a little extra training. You hammered the white canvas with a staccato beat, taped hands knocking small clouds of powder as they went, bouncing on the balls of your feet the way Genji had taught you. Never keep still, never let them catch you. 

"Not bad," comes a voice from behind you and you jump, turning around with your fists still raised. Genji is leaning against the doorframe, hair damp from a shower, a loose tank top drooping from one shoulder, the muscles there taut and firm looking, begging to be squeezed, to have nails and teeth dragged across them. You inwardly curse your lustful thoughts and drop out of your fighting stance, blushing as you look away and mutter an apology.

"Hey, don't worry so much," he says, finally coming into the room, padding barefoot to your side and wrapping one arm around you. "At least I know I'm a good teacher, heh." You reach up and cradle his face in one taped palm, and his eyes close, sighing contentedly through his nose. 

"I'd say you're a pretty good teacher, I mean," you gesture over your shoulder at the punching bag and shrug, fighting a smirk. "That thing's not talking back." Genji snorts, actually _snorts_ with laughter. Genji Shimada, ninja, member of a crime family, and famous playboy, snorts when he laughs. He kisses your forehead and mutters something in Japanese, shaking his head, before crossing the room and picking up two staves, tossing one to you. You manage to catch it deftly, and frown, confused. 

"We haven't practiced with these yet."

"Think of it as a slightly bigger katana, that's less likely to cut you," he says with a smile, twirling the staff around effortlessly, barely moving his wrist. "These are bō, if you want to get technical about it and we are going to spar, koneko." He throws you a wink and you narrow your eyes. 

"Okay, Shimada, what are the rules?" You try and copy his fighting stance, instead dropping into the one he'd taught you for the katana yesterday night; leg pushed back, arms firm, weapon out in front of you. You never take your eyes off him, swivelling to keep him in your sights. He makes a little pleasurable, satisfied noise in his throat when he sees you ready to fight and you flush with pride.

"You're a good student," he says, voice soft, and you can tell that he's admiring you, a feeling that sends shocks down your spine. "Best of three, first person to three points wins. Ready for me?" This last question is said in a voice so low and silky that you are momentarily thrown off guard, your whole body flushes warm and tingling, as though he had said it with his lips brushing your ear rather than from across the room. There is a _whoosh_ and suddenly Genji's staff is an inch from your face, held firm in two strong hands.

"Point!" Genji calls, clearly elated. "Don't let me distract you."

You don't.

With a cry of exertion, a war cry, you swing at him with all your might, blocking a blow from your left. He feints, you catch him, and then your staff bounces off his chest with a crack of wood on flesh and he jolts back with a yelp. He fights back savagely, movements too quick for your brain to register and you find yourself relying on the sound of his feet shuffling against the padded floor, and the hitch in his breath just before he swings.

"Point," you say with a smirk, mimicking his voice. The two of you remain frozen for a moment, gauging the other's move. His eyes rake over your body, toe to top, pausing on your stomach, your chest, your lips. His eyes flicker to yours and you smile, almost a smirk. He moves first and you stagger backwards, managing to block at the last second, the force of his blow shuddering through the staff and into you, forcing you to one knee, and Genji's grin has upgraded from catlike to wolfish. You are a rabbit in headlights under that smile, and he knows it.

" _Well,_ " you think, eyes darting quickly about his form, trying to guess his next move in the swivel of his hips, the tense muscles of his abdomen. " _It can't hurt to use his own tactics against him, I suppose._ " You half-lid your eyes, and look up at the man above you through your lashes, gaze steady. You call his name, voice low, encouraging him to come closer. His arms go less taut, he falters. You widen your eyes, staring him down, gazing into those pitch dark eyes of his, and slowly, deliberately, you peek your tongue out and drag it across your upper lip, following the curve and swoop of your Cupid's bow. Genji makes a quiet, strangled noise and you seize the opportunity.

Sweeping your staff in a wide arc that connects with the back of his knees, you sweep Genji's legs out from under him and launch yourself up, over, ending up straddling him as you pin him down with the staff across his throat, the other end of it diagonally over your shoulder. You mouth the word _point_ and he glowers at you, but the twitch at the corner of his lips betrays the smirk that he is holding back.

"You wanna get back up? Not much I can do from here." There is a clatter as he drops his staff and then his hands are on your wrists, gently rubbing his thumbs in circles until you drop yours too; once it's gone you are merely pinning him between your thighs as he grabs your wrists. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of the heat of his body and the weight of yours against his lap, of the evidence of his growing arousal against your inner thigh, of the way his Adam's apple seems to bob in slow motion as he swallows. His hands travel, slowly, up your arms and then skip to your waist, strong fingers squeezing. He holds you still as he sits up, pulling you more forcefully into his lap. Your arms loop around his neck and he tilts his head and leans in, planting a soft kiss at the base of your throat. A breath that you didn't know you had been holding escapes you in a sigh, and his kisses follow it upwards, soft and wet and full of such heat that it floods you like fire, pooling at the apex of your thighs. His hands are splayed across your back and you feel safe, secure...

That is, until he leans you further back and pins you against the floor in turn. The warm weight of him hovers over you, tantalizingly just out of reach as your hands are pinned between the two of you, but then he leans down and captures your lips with his and with their honey-sweet warmth you are lost. He pulls away, just a hair's breadth and whispers against your lip.

"Point."

You silence him once more, tilting your chin up to crash your lips into his and he hums, half-surprised and in his shock ruts his hips against yours, giving a spark of friction exactly where you wanted it, and you moan against his lips, opening your mouth so that his tongue can flick into it and massage yours. You pull away after a minute, panting breaths almost outpacing your racing heart. He murmurs in Japanese again, a word that could be a curse or a prayer, followed by a groan of your name, and the way that it drips from his lips makes it sound simultaneously filthy and beautiful. 

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," he admits, leaning back, sitting up on his knees and running a hand through his hair. You follow him, magnetised, every nerve in your body afire and drawing you towards Genji. You know if you licked your lips you would taste him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you take his face in your hands, tilting it towards yours and meeting his gaze with yours. You thought he might push you away, but his arms encircle you again.

"Well, what happens when you can't take it?"

By way of answer, he kisses you again, once. It is light, but lingering, his lower lip sticking between yours for a fraction of a second as he pulls back. There is a pause, like before; you remain frozen for a moment, gauging the other's move before they make it. He swallows. When he speaks, his lips brush yours.

"Can I have you?"

Your answer is wrapped in the press of your lips against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Y'all ready for this? Cause I'm not!


	9. Kalokagathia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //here, kalokagathia means the good and beautiful in a person 
> 
> //aka, this chapter opens with the smut that was left on a cliffhanger last chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Your lips part from Genji's, your mingled gasps for breath clouding the air between you. Your boxing gloves lay forgotten on the floor not far away, fingers wound into Genji's green hair, his own hands under your shirt, hot and rough against the skin of your waist. There are callouses on his palms, worn down from years of swords and staves, and their texture is strange and delicious and raises goosebumps everywhere he drags his hands; down your back with the gentle bite of his nails against your flesh, around your waist, up your arms and into your hair. His lips meet yours again and again and you kiss him back, and then around his lips, along his jaw. You sink your teeth, gently, into his soft earlobe and he stifles a groan against your neck, the warm vibration of it taking your breath away. His voice is thick and scratchy with lust when he speaks, next to your ear. barely breathing between his words.

"Up. Now. We're going."

He almost drags you to your feet, kicking aside his discarded staff as he leads you from the gym. He looks dramatically from side to side in the corridor beyond, so much so that you giggle, and he looks back biting his lip with a flush on his cheeks. Instead of heading for the door outside to head back to the dorms he pulls you towards a white door, painted to blend into the wall around it; an entrance to a servant's staircase, rarely used now, but you know that this one will deposit you directly outside the family apartments - Sojiro's locked room, Hanzo's spartan chambers... And Genji's bedroom. 

The stairwell is cold and concrete, but he stops, bare feet slapping the stone. His voice is barely above a whisper but it echoes in the emptiness and makes you jump.

"Does anyone ever use these stairs?"

You shrug in response, taking your hand out of his. Your body was reacting badly to stopping, your racing heart and the warm, yearning coil of arousal in the pit of your stomach urging you onwards. "Not really, but, wh-"

Your question is cut off as he pushes you roughly against the wall, claiming your lips with his again but rougher this time, his teeth bruising your lower lip so hard that you cry out weakly against his mouth. His hand slips under your shirt again, cups a breast and kneads, making your breath catch. Your fingertips brush down his chest, hard planes of muscle twitch under your exploring fingers, and his free hand moves lower, toying with the waistband of your sweatpants for a mere second before it dips below with his large fingers slipping between your legs and drawing one slow, lingering stroke across your clothed sex. You twist your head away from the kiss, a shuddering gasp forcing its way through your lips as your body tenses under his touch. He stills, leans away a little.

"Is everything okay? Should I not have-" You shake your head, looking back at him, the pair of you heavy-lidded and flushed.

"No, it's fine, it's _more_ than fine, I just..." You swallow, hard, and find your hips bucking against his palm even as you try and stop them, eliciting a needy whine from you and a low, quiet groan from him. "Get me upstairs. Now." 

Genji's grin is wolfish as he reluctantly pulls his hands from you to take your arm and tugs you toward the stairs.

***

It is a wonder that the pair of you even manage to burst through his door; you are a tangle of limbs, of hands wound into hair, of lips against any bare skin that they can find. You pull Genji's hair and he growls against your neck, kicking the door shut behind him as the fingers of the hand that has ended up on your breast pinch and roll a nipple to a hard peak. You pull his head up and lean against him, your lips meeting in the middle, the kiss sloppy and heated. He ducks down, slips his hands under your behind, lifts. You are weightless for a moment and then you wrap your legs around his waist; he holds you as though you weigh nothing, and the thick, hard length of his cock presses enticingly against your core through layers of clothing. Your nails scrabble for purchase, marking his shoulders with red lines and he hisses through his teeth, a grimace morphing into a smile.

"Ah, you'll be the death of me," he mutters, taking two tentative steps towards his bed, arms shaking. He places you down at the edge of the mattress, the silken sheets making you slide back towards him as he slips his hands down your legs, taking your sweatpants with them. The cold air hitting your flesh makes you shudder and you go to push your legs together, to create some friction, but he kneels between them with his forehead against your chest, dropping kisses over your collarbone, strong hands keeping your thighs apart, pressing into the soft flesh on your inner legs. You can't see his face but you can feel him smiling, delighting in how wound up you are. You reach out and pull on the back of his tank top, a wordless question, and he leans back and allows you to strip him. The light in here is dim but it throws him into stark relief, all deep shadows between muscles and sharp highlights on his collarbone, his chest. Your hands are all over him, tracing the muscles in his back, the deep V of muscle that vanishes below his waistband. He shivers beneath your fingertips, head tilting to seek out your lips whenever you are close enough, but you dodge him and lick a stripe up the solid column of his throat, kissing the soft skin under his jawbone. He moans and it is your name that his lips form, here on his knees in worship of you, a prayer, an oath. He is the next to divest you of your clothing, pulling off your shirt and taking both breasts in his hands. His head bows, in supplication, in exaltation, and he rolls his tongue across one nipple, pinching the other. Your voice stutters over his name, followed by a whispered string of curses. He tuts at you without looking up, one hand snaking up your thigh, towards your sex which aches for any attention he will provide.

"Language," he admonishes you, the laugh even present in his scratchy, lust-drunk voice. "There are so many beautiful things you can do with a tongue, and you curse?" He shakes his head and tuts, leaning back and tugging your underwear down your thighs. You are almost deaf to all but his voice and the pounding of blood in your ears as you lift your hips to help him. He tosses your underwear over his shoulder and you giggle, making him smirk as he lowers his lips to your knee.

"Ah, laughter," he murmurs, dropping a kiss between his words, between your breaths. "There's one beautiful thing you can do." He drops another kiss, a little further up, on your inner thigh. "You could recite poetry-" Another kiss. "Sing-" Another kiss, longer this time, higher, lingering like his voice on these words. "Say my name-" There is a rasp of teeth and tongue in this kiss, against the crease where your thigh meets your mound. You whisper his name, keening along the end of it, a whine that makes him chuckle. He has moved between your legs properly now, pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, every breath letting warm air caress your folds. You tilt your hips up, wanton and craving, and look down to see him smile. You're surprised that this cheesy approach has worked on you until you see that smile, and realise that you are lost. "Well, I suppose there is this too."

He dips his tongue between your folds and you clench two greedy handfuls of his hair as he laps at your soaked sex, seeking your clit in ever narrower circles, tracing an orbit across you with the tip of his tongue. You breathe out in a long, shuddering sigh and a lusty moan escapes Genji at the sound which tightens the coil of pleasure in your groin. He has brought one hand between your legs now, stroking gently around your entrance with a deft fingertip before dipping swiftly in with ease, making you tighten your legs around him, so glad to finally be filled with _something_. His fingers curl and scissor inside you, making you moan for him, breathless and panting. 

Looking down, you find yourself gazing into his slate-grey eyes, blown huge and black with lust, and you know he's enjoying this almost as much as you. Sweat rolls down your body, down the valley between your breasts, and your thighs are coated with a sticky mix of saliva and your own arousal, as is Genji's face which you can see as he pulls back, breathing heavily. He flexes his wrist, pumping his fingers into you faster, harder. You whine at the loss of his tongue, but his thumb replaces it, rubbing circles on your sensitive flesh. He leans his head on your thigh and curses in Japanese, barely above a breath, and the sound of his voice shoots straight to your cunt, tightening the coil of your impending release in your stomach. 

"So, so beautiful," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, and delves back into your hot, wet sex, tongue lapping faster, greedy for the taste of you and you react almost violently, falling back and arching your hips up into his mouth as he suckles on your sensitive flesh. Genji lets out a groan, long and slow, and the vibration of the sound sets fireworks off behind your eyelids and his name falls from your mouth in an endless, gasped mantra that stutters off into a scream stifled by a bitten knuckle as your muscles clamp down on his fingers and your release takes you, hard. He swirls his tongue around once more, drinking you in like a man dying of thirst.

He calls your name as he pulls his fingers from you and crawls up onto the bed - a soft voice, calling you back to him, and then his lips are on yours and you can taste yourself on his lips. He pulls away with a soft pop and he is as breathless as you feel. Despite that his voice is teasing, light.

"Any good?"

You heave in a breath, breasts bouncing. "F-fuck, Genji, yes." You roll towards him, hooking a leg over his hips and kiss his neck, reaching down between you for his cock, but he pushes your hand away. 

"Oh god, no, there'll be time for that another time but for now," he gently rolls you onto your back, positions himself between your legs, kisses your lips. "I can think of something else we could do." As if to prove a point he rolls his hips, brushing his hard length against you and making you keen with need, a sound he captures with his lips. Once he releases you he reaches into his bedside drawer, pulls out a foil-wrapped condom. He asks your consent between kisses against your shoulder and your neck, you nod enthusiastically and he rips the packet with his teeth, rolls it on swiftly, leans back onto his knees. You watch as he strokes his cock, agonisingly slowly, almost torturous, and the flutter of your cunt and the whimper in your throat come at the same time as you watch. He bites his lip, half-smiling.

"Couldn't let you go without a show, could I?" Genji asks, and his voice is low and husky, smoky like whiskey. He grips his cock at the base, drags it up and down the length of your sex, leaving you gasping. There is pressure, a groan passes your lips, a feeling of delicious stretching and then the thick, heavy weight of him is buried inside of you. He looms over you, forearms either side of your head, hands fisted into the pillows; yours find purchase on his back, clutching at his shoulder blades. He pants, breaths heavy and hot, as your body adjusts to his girth and then he begins to move and you find yourself spiralling away, every sense in your body hyper-focused on the feel of his cock and the throbbing bundle of nerves at the hood of your sex. You tilt your hips up to meet his as they snap against you, and he mutters in Japanese against your neck between kisses, thrusting harder each time. Your nails dig into his back and the sweet sting of it makes him gasp and worry the soft skin below your jaw with his teeth. 

The pair of you grow louder with each thrust, with each kiss, the slap of his flesh on yours and your shared moans filling his room. Your hands slide up his back and into his soaked hair, and you pull, harder than before. His eyes snap open and his pace falters as he gasps, slamming into you hard.

"Ah, fuck!" comes his ragged gasp, and a hand slides down your body to pinch and grasp at your left breast. "A-again. Pull my hair, _please _!"__

__His voice is so plaintive and ragged that you can do nothing but obey, and his reaction is shocking, his pace quickening and your hearts beating alongside one another faster than you've ever felt. You tighten your legs around his hips and he groans, pushing himself up on his forearms so that he can plow into you harder. The clench of your cunt and the friction of his pubic bone against your over-sensitive clit has you gasping for air and you barely notice as his pace stutters again, his lip vanishing between his teeth. Your hips rise up to meet him again, but one hand pins you to the bed and he shakes his head._ _

__"I don't wanna, ah-" he begins, but the rest of the sentence disappears in a groan as you angle your hips for him again and he picks up the pace. "Not yet!"_ _

__"Yes you do," you whisper, and your voice is as husky and ragged as his, "I know you wanna cum. C'mon, please Genji..." You are begging now, having found your voice, wheedling it out of him. It has the desired effect because his pace stutters against you and you clench yourself around him intentionally, wrapping him tighter in your arms and crashing your lips to his._ _

__He comes apart in your arms, his shattered, broken groans of your name swallowed in a kiss._ _

__***_ _

__The sun peeks up over the horizon, bathing the room in a pinkish glow that finds you and Genji tangled in the bedsheets, sweaty and lazily kissing. He presses his lips to your shoulder, you lay a kiss on his collarbone, exchanging kisses and murmured words as the light in the room went from grey to pink to the watery yellow of a new day._ _

__"I can't believe we did that," he admits in a low voice, tucking your hair behind your ear. You don't open your eyes, but you smile. "I mean, I am not complaining but, y'know." You chuckle, quietly._ _

__"I know, I know," you reply, and nuzzle into his shoulder. The room is heavy with your combined scent, and the scent of last night's fallen rain drifts in the open window. A blossom tree right outside rustles as though shaking itself awake. You stretch, languidly, like a cat. "It sorta feels like nothing could ruin this morning."_ _

__Genji winds his arm around your waist and kisses your forehead. "Nothing will."_ _

__***_ _

__You were beginning to think that this place had been cursed by some sorcerer with a penchant for famous last words._ _

__The pair of you had drifted off to sleep, but it seemed that no sooner had your dreams arrived than they were shattered by a loud knocking on the door. Genji sprung to his feet, with the unerring ninja's athleticism that still hadn't stopped amazing you, and motioned for you to be quiet._ _

__"Who is it?" he called, and more pounding was the answer before:_ _

__"So help me, brother, if you don't get out here-" which swiftly devolved into a cacophony of angry Japanese yelling that both confused and scared you as you tried to pick out any familiar words. Genji winced. Whatever it was Hanzo was angry about, it couldn't be good. Genji set about getting dressed and then pointed at his en suite shower room._ _

__"Go on, you go get cleaned up, he won't come in."_ _

__You took it as it was meant to be taken, as a cue to get out of the firing line of Hanzo's ire, and slid off the bed in a puddle of sheets, trailing them behind you as you hurried for the bathroom, noting that even now Genji's eyes lingered on you as you passed._ _

__Almost as soon as the lock on the door slid home you heard the bedroom door open and Hanzo entered, spitting expletives. You threw the shower on and cranked the pressure as high as it would go, but hovered near the door as it billowed steam, trying to eavesdrop. You could practically hear your mother telling you that ' _eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves_ ' but you figured it didn't count if you understood less than half of what was being said. _ _

__Both brother's voices were raised now, practically screaming at each other, talking over one another so quickly that you doubt you could have kept up even if you could understand. As if he had heard your thoughts, Hanzo speaks again in English._ _

__"Understand _this_ then," he says, and his voice is dripping venom like honey from a hive. "This was your last chance. You either step up now, or never." _ _

__You are almost glad that you can't understand Genji's reply, as you're sure that it was vulgar beyond comprehension. There is the sound of the door slamming and then shattering glass, and you dive into the shower, instantly scalding yourself under the too-hot water._ _

__One burning question orbits your mind; Genji's last change at _what_?_ _

__***_ _

__"Hey, no, let me get that."_ _

__Freshly showered and dressed in a uniform that Genji fetched from a linen closet, you are helping Genji pick up what remains of a fine glass that he had launched at the door after the retreating Hanzo. Genji at least has the sense to look embarrassed and apologise as you help him pick shards of glass off the wooden floor._ _

__"I'm sorry you had to hear that, especially the, uh, end," he stammers, turning red. You're amazed he can even blush around you anymore. You shake your head._ _

__"Brothers argue, I get it," you say in what you hope is a reassuring tone, sweeping the glass into a bin. "Don't worry." His twisted embarrassed face is replaced by a bashful smile as he bundles you in his arms._ _

__"Do you have to leave? I think I could keep you here all week."_ _

__You lean up on tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Yup, I've gotta run refreshments for some meeting Hanzo's having later." A cloud of confusion passes over Genji's features; how could he not have known about this? You shrug it off for now, you were almost late. "I hope he doesn't throw anything at me."_ _

__"Ha-ha-ha," Genji deadpans, hustling you towards the door. He opens it before he kisses you long and full on the lips, not even looking to see if anyone was walking past, and you flush beet red. "Just keep in touch okay? I, uh..." It is his turn to flush pink as you step outside the warm confines of his room. "I'll miss you." You roll your eyes, but his words warm you up inside._ _

__"You too."_ _

__***_ _

__"Your hair is a fucking mess," Poppy says as she passes you at the bar in the ballroom. "What'd you do, get laid?"_ _

__The bartenders chuckle as you turn red (and you were sure you were going to pass out from all this blood rushing to your cheeks today) and give Poppy a pointed look over your shoulder. She gapes at you and mouths a long ' _nooooo_ ' and you tap the side of your nose, the international symbol for 'It's A Secret, Dumbass'. The bartenders are distracted, talking about the massive fight that Hanzo and Genji supposedly had this morning. The prevalent rumour was that Genji had tried to gouge Hanzo's eyes out with a broken wine glass, and you weren't about to correct them._ _

__You were only here to have a couple of jugs filled with fragrant wine and sake for Hanzo's meeting, and Poppy had stopped by on her break. She had a popsicle and it had stained her lips cherry-red and shiny. You find your voice at last._ _

__"Your lips are a mess, what'd you do, blow a clown?" You are rewarded with a laugh from the bartenders and a punch on the shoulder from your friend, who also flicks her used popsicle stick at you._ _

__"You literally watched me eat that, dumbass," she says with a laugh, hefting one of the jugs into her arms. "C'mon, we better get these to Shimada, my break's nearly over anyway." You raise your eyebrows at her - she clearly just wanted to hear all about whatever you were keeping from her - but gratefully accepted her help anyway. It wasn't that long a walk to the meeting room with the carved dragon doors anyway, there's no way she'll hear everything._ _

__"Okay, I don't want the gory details, just a simple yes or no will suffice," she finally says, practically breathless with anticipation. You stand side by side outside those doors with their intricately carved wooden dragons billowing clouds of smoke and kick it twice in lieu of a knock. You wait for Hanzo's grunt of assent before you give Poppy the briefest of nods and she squeals with delight, earning her a strange look from the nearest boss when the doors open. You head to opposite sides of the huge round meeting table, offering drinks as unobtrusively as possible. The air is heavy with cigarette smoke and incense, and your eyes water a little as you go to stand at the side, stationed slightly behind the lowest ranking member at the table; Yuuto. Poppy leans close to your ear muttering tips about who everyone is._ _

__"You know Yuuto and Hanzo. That's Reo, the one with the long hair, Yuuto's older brother. The guy in green is from the Osaka Shimada clan, he's a distant cousin. The one with the grey hair is a Russian, doesn't speak a work of Japanese, and I can't pronounce his name -"_ _

__The Russian is talking now, tapping the ash from his hand-rolled cigarette into a crystal ashtray. It smells like cloves. Rings twinkle on his fingers, one fashioned into the unmistakable shape of an omnic's head, the eyes cut from chips of ruby._ _

__"Hanzo," he says in thickly-accented English, clearly their only common language. "I think what I would really like to know, what everyone would like to know, is what is going to be done now about your brother? Genji says-" Hanzo coughs pointedly, cutting off the Russian._ _

__"Genji is a matter for another time," Hanzo says, and his voice is stiff and unyielding as stone. You can feel his eyes burning into you from across the smoky room. "And a family matter. It will be sorted." A general grumble of dissent rattles around the room, but Hanzo slams his fist against the table and resorts to yelling. "That is the last I will say on the matter." He gestures to you and then to his cup. Next to the Russian a black man in a red button-up shirt checks his watch, scratches his well kept goatee. The sake seems to pour in slow motion. Hanzo makes a gesture of dismissal to the room, but tilts his head slightly towards you and hisses a warning._ _

__"Not you. Don't you move."_ _

__Once the room has cleared, even of Poppy who gives you a sympathetic grimace and Yuuto who leaves you alone for once, you stand at attention at Hanzo's side. He motions to the chair to his left and you sit dutifully, placing the jug as neatly as you can on a coaster._ _

__"I am not blind," he says, and his voice is grave. You notice that his eyes are sunken and ringed with dark circles, and a mask of stubble is beginning to cover his jaw, forming into a thicker goatee around his lips, which quirk up when he next speaks. "Or deaf, for that matter." He drums his fingers on the tabletop. "I know there's something going on with you and my brother." Your heart kicks into high gear. _Ah. That's what he meant about not being deaf_. He takes a long sip from his glass._ _

__"I have no problem with it. Provided you can keep your mouth shut about what you heard Stepanychev say here today." Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. "In return, I ignore this little tryst, and perhaps Yuuto finds himself further away from you than he is now."_ _

__"With respect, Shimada-sama, he didn't actually say anything."_ _

__Hanzo smiles and drains the rest of his glass._ _

__"That's the attitude I like to see. Just know that if I find out you have breathed a word of this to my brother, your life can become very... uncomfortable. You have no idea what we do here." Hanzo stands up, shoving his high-backed chair away unceremoniously. "Now get out. Send your friend in to clear this."_ _

__Before you can leave, Hanzo strides out of the door ahead of you, ushering Poppy back in._ _

__"Well, that was weird," she says, collecting the older Shimada's empty glass. "What'd he want?"_ _

__"Silence, seems like," you admit. Poppy sighs._ _

__"Ah, good old peace and quiet," she says, rolling her shoulders. "I don't remember what that's like."_ _

__***_ _

__You are on your way to the staff gym later that day, having caught some kind of exercise bug from all your training with Genji apparently, when you run smack-bang into Kenshin in the hallway. He whirs apologetically and makes sure you're not hurt. Once you have assured him that he's not as scary as he thinks he is, he still hangs around for a little longer than is necessary._ _

__"Uh, Kenshin, everything okay?"_ _

__He looks past you but speaks to you; the effect is a little unnerving with his unwaveringly calm voice._ _

__"You were in the meeting earlier? With the family bosses?" You nod your assent and he continues hurriedly. "Did anything seem... Off, to you? Wrong?" You think back to that smoky room, try and think back to what happened before Hanzo threatened you._ _

__"Nope, nothing too out of the ordinary. Why?" Kenshin reaches out and pats your shoulder a few times, a gesture so startlingly human that you recoil a little. He doesn't seem to notice._ _

__"Good, good. No reason, no reason at all. Have a good day."_ _

__And then he is rushing off, leaving you feeling more confused than you had in weeks._ _


	10. Syzygy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Syzygy: The alignment of three celestial bodies in a straight line, commonly the Earth, Sun and Moon.
> 
> //It all got a bit dramatic for a while there, I think Genji and Reader deserve to be happy for a chapter. Most of a chapter. Eh.

A week had passed. You had worked your fingers to the bone, preparing for the official announcement of Hanzo as Sojiro's successor, polishing this and mopping that, ironing clothes worth more than anything you had owned. As promised Hanzo had kept Yuuto away from you, although you caught Yuuto glaring reproachfully at you as you exited the kitchens late one night with a flaskful of stolen whiskey. You'd taken it to Genji's room, where you retired most nights now rather than the dorms, seeking comfort and conversation and your release at the demands of his hands and tongue and body, his warm flesh marking yours. Purple lovebites tattooed your shoulders like a vivid, bloody facsimile of the green dragon on Genji's inner thigh, marking you as his. He was careful not to mark you anywhere that would be visible in your uniform but now, as you lay with your head in his lap in your casual clothes, he trailed a fingertip across them absentmindedly as he spoke on the phone. Although you didn't understand the words the rumble of his quiet voice was heady, your favourite song made speech, and you found yourself drifting in and out of a light sleep.

 

Your thoughts drifted, not for the first time, to your odd encounter with Kenshin. Sure, he'd been perfectly normal since, maybe even friendlier than normal, but he also hadn't mentioned it again. You'd seen strange things too, Kenshin talking in darkened corners with one of the visitors, the dark-skinned man with the scarred cheek, and new hires in the armory all of a sudden. Genji had told you about one of them, a short, stout Scandinavian who had sharpened his shurikens to deadly thinness. You shook your head gently, inadvertently nuzzling against Genji's thighs and he leans down to kiss your head, breaking your train of thought. There's a faint beep as Genji hangs up his phone call and then he is curling into you, pulling you up so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. He lets out a tired groan.

 

"I am so sick of hearing about my brother," he mumbles into your hair, running a hand up and down your spine. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous of all the work he's gotta do but, why do I have to be involved?" His lips forge a path from your scalp to your ear, nuzzling against the lobe, and you bite back a giggle.

 

"I know a couple things I could do to distract you?" Your offer is carefully kept light and innocent sounding and he smiles despite his tired eyes, the hand on your back dipping lower to cup your ass.

 

"Do you now?" Genji says, lips against your throat now. He presses a searing kiss there and you sigh, putty in his hands. "Well I'd say I'm due a demonstration of these distracting talents of yours."

 

***

 

Later, spent and sated and sore, Genji has you back in his lap. His chest is firm and sweaty against your back but you find you don't mind so much. Both of your arms are outstretched, supporting the weight of Genji's katana.

 

"You should feel honoured," he says, voice thick with exhaustion, "I don't let just anyone touch that, even the armorers, I keep it sharp and clean myself." His hands are encircling your wrists as you turn the sword this way and that, admiring the way the light glints off the edge like quicksilver. You test the edge with a tentative thumb and scarlet blood blossoms in it's wake, making Genji tut at you. He lowers the sword and takes your hand, popping the injured thumb into his mouth and swiping his tongue across the pad of it. Despite the dull ache in your loins from his rough, hurried love making not even an hour ago a spark of arousal takes hold in the pit of your stomach from the actions of his tongue. You must have blushed because Genji clamps his teeth around your thumb in a grin and winks.

 

"Maybe I'm the one who should feel honoured that you're that beautiful when I make you blush," he says when he releases your digit, and you swat at him to hide your bashfulness, but all he does is grab you and pull you closer, spinning you around to kiss you full on the lips. His are warm, slightly salty, impossibly soft. "You have to go though, don't you?" When you nod he groans, frustrated, but his grin belies him. He falls back against his pillows and you clamber off him. You start dressing when he talks again.

 

"Meet me back here after your shift, okay? I've got a plan."

 

You manage a sideways look at him, spread out naked against his cool silken sheets, but his face is giving nothing away, so you resolve to just kiss him instead, a decision which makes him hum appreciatively. As you leave you note that he is frantically hammering out a text on his phone, but he blows you a kiss anyway.

 

You shut the door with a shake of your head. Trust you to be falling for a nerd disguised as a ninja.

 

***

 

It was a long afternoon of scrubbing flagstones for you today apparently, and your back ached from bending low with the scrubbing brush; one of the visiting elders had been horrified to see a member of staff mopping the ancient stones so while they were around it was the old-fashioned way or nothing. You toss the brush into a nearby bucket of suds with a grumble and sit yourself against the wall while the floor around you dried. You were just thinking that you'd never even seen anyone use this hall when the sound of tapping feet distracts you and you look up just as a breathless Poppy careens into the room. Her cheeks are almost as red as her hair and there's a mostly crumpled letter in her hand.

 

" _There_ you are!" Poppy squeals when she spots you and edges carefully over the wet floor in your direction, trying not to mess up your work. "You have got to see this, I can't believe I'm telling you before I even tell my dad-" She breaks off panting, and you hold your hand out for the letter. Emblazoned across the top are the words 'University of Oxford' and then your vision is clouded by a mass of ginger hair as Poppy flings her arms around you.

 

"You got in?"

 

"I got in!"

 

She'd confessed that she was only working at Shimada castle to save up to head off for further education a while ago, on one of the nights that you spent drinking pilfered beer and gossiping, and you had thought nothing had come of it but here in front of you was the proof that-

 

"Oh god," Poppy said, quiet suddenly, her arms loosening. "I'm gonna have to leave." All the colour had drained from her face and she was staring at you with eyes as wide as dinner plates. "I'm gonna have to leave Japan." You felt bad, but you did snort with laughter.

 

"Well yeah, unless there's an Oxford in Hanamura that I don't know about." Poppy swats at you with the letter, white as a sheet apart from two blooms of red high in her cheeks.

 

"Shut up. I've been here for _years,_ I'm gonna be so lost! What're you gonna do without me?"

 

You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile and wrap an arm around her shoulders, before gesturing at the muddy footprints on the floor you just cleaned.

 

"Well, I won't have to clean every floor twice, that's for sure."

 

***

 

Your knuckles were starting to hurt.

 

You'd been knocking on Genji's door for quite a while now, almost jumping out of your skin every time someone moved in the nearby hallway in case it was Hanzo or Yuuto or some other undesirable. There was no light from under the door and no noise from inside but you persisted anyway, until there was a strangled shout from behind you and you whirled, fists up. The light glinted off a mess of green hair and a dark blue suit, the shirt underneath undone by one button too many and you relaxed. He'd ducked behind a garment bag that he was carrying, but that green hair gave him away anywhere, as well as the subtle electricity that pervaded the air whenever he was near you. 

 

"Like I said, I trained you well," Genji said with a laugh, emerging from behind the bag and unlocking his door, hands fumbling over everything he was carrying. "C'mon in, you." You accepted his invitation, taking some of the things he was carrying; bags of thick linen that jingled when your hands moved them, a hessian tote that scratches your skin.

 

"Genji, what-" You start, but he shushes you with a finger to your lips, hanging the garment bag on a hook and unzipping it with a flourish. "What is that?"

 

It was a dress, or most of one, mostly gossamer-thin silk and stones that glinted even in the dim lamplight of Genji's room. You gaped at it and stretched out a hand to rub one of the sleeves between your fingers.

 

"I think you'll look beautiful in it tonight," Genji says, and his voice is husky and close by, the scent of his cologne enveloping you as he encircles your waist in his arms from behind. "I'm taking you dancing." Your hand drops and your eyebrows knit together.

 

"How much was it?" Your voice is flat, more a statement than a question, and Genji goes stiff. "Really, Genji, how much? I can't wear something like this I-" You find yourself spun around and silenced with a kiss, your eyes fluttering closed reluctantly as you give yourself over to the sensation of his lips on yours. He breaks from you, leans his forehead against yours.

 

"Let me treat you, okay? Just this once."

 

You cup his face and kiss his nose, making him wrinkle it up in a way that would melt the coldest heart. "I'm not doing this for your money, you know that right? I-" You pause, looking for eloquence again, something that Genji's very presence seems to rob from your tongue. "I like _you_. Not your name." His face brightens and he brushes a lock of hair behind your ear.

 

"I like you too," he admits, straightening up, and a cool weight settles against your chest. He'd fastened a necklace under your hair without you noticing and you jump as the pendant settles between your breasts, against the thrum of your heart. "I don't know what you do to me, I... I never would have done anything like this before, and I always thought I couldn't have anything _good_ like this, like you, this life I-" It is your turn to silence him, with a cool finger to his lips, and he looks at you with wide eyes, awe and wonder in equal measure in those endless dark pupils. Your voice is quiet when you speak again.

 

"Thank you. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. Let's go."

 

***

Dressed to the nines, the pair of you sneaked out of the castle through the same back gate that had led to the mountain springs, only this time Genji doubled back and the two of you faced a wall.

 

"You're kidding me, right?" you ask, barely able to lift your leg out straight in this dress, let alone hoist yourself over a wall.

 

He scampers up it with ease like some kind of chimp and extends a hand to help you up. With a scowl that could have killed a man where he stood you took the offered hand and scrambled over the wall, landing on Genji on the other side, knocking him on his ass.

 

"Honestly, thank god you suggested I wore flats." Genji guffaws and helps you back to your feet.

 

"I believe you grew up with a story about a girl in a pretty dress who loses her heels when she runs off at midnight," he says, giving you a sly sideways look as you roll your eyes. "Not risking that one."

 

He spirits you into the back of a sleek black cab when you reach the road, slipping in beside you and raising the privacy screen between the pair of you and the driver as soon as he can.

 

"It's a long drive to the club, we might as well pass the time," he says, sliding down the smooth leather of the seat to kiss you deeply.

 

"I'm not having sex with you in a cab, Shimada."

 

"I would never suggest anything so indecent!" Genji's eyebrows shoot upwards in mock-shock, but a smirk twitches his lips up in that infuriatingly attractive manner of his. "I was just gonna make out with you a little."

 

_Can't argue with that._

 

***

 

The very air seems to vibrate and shimmer with a thousand glitter motes floating in the strobe light, a thousand bpm rocketing through your veins under the lasers that flit overhead like trails of fairydust through the haze.

 

Genji pulls you flush against him by your hips and the world tilts and spins dizzily, the sugary taste of the drink you recently necked coating the back of your throat. The two of you sway and undulate as one, coiled like snakes, and the mix of his cologne and a hundred other scents sends you spinning. The club is just outside Hanamura, far enough that nobody here will recognise Genji on sight, and for that you are thankful because he peppers your face with kisses the entire night, loops his arm protectively around your shoulders.

 

You knew he could dance, but he is like a thing possessed, all swinging hips and roaming hands against what little of your skin is exposed; while the dress he picked for you is thin and glittering it covers most of your body. The necklace that he dropped between your breasts gleams like a green mirror, the exact shining green that makes up the translucent whorls of his dragon. He is as tipsy as you and lurches hungrily for your lips and you accept him with a parting of plump lips, a swirl of tongue, a rasp of tongue and teeth and stubble that verges on vulgar, but the crowd presses you so close together that nobody would notice.

 

It's been hours of this, of dancing and drawing back to each other magnetically, each of you caught in the other's orbit so fantastically, so ecstatically, that nothing could disrupt you. Nothing except a stronger force pulling on your orbit.

 

It's when you pull your lips reluctantly from Genji's that you spot him; at first you think he is an odd shadow cast by the pulsating lights, bedecked all in black as he is, but there is a woman all in gold hanging off of his arm with her head thrown back in laughter. Your eyes adjust to the flashes of white light and that is when you realise that the shadow has solidified into Yuuto at the edge of the dancefloor and you pull on Genji's arm frantically, gesturing in Yuuto's direction to alert him. You're pretty sure the curse that Genji spits would have his father rolling in his grave if he could.

 

"C'mon, we could use some fresh air anyway," Genji murmurs, lips close to your ear. He leads you through the crowd by the arm, stranger's perfume and limbs forming a barrier. You head towards the DJ booth, the thumping of the music rumbling through the soles of your feet now, and you cast a furtive glance behind you to see if you'd been spotted; so far, so good. Thank god it was dark in here. Looping around the outside of the writhing crowd you are instantly reminded of all those renaissance paintings of hell; pained, contorted bodies crammed into one fleshy mass. You shudder. You've lost sight of Yuuto, figuring that he must have taken his date into the thick of the throng and get Genji to stop just before you reach the doors so you can catch your breath.

 

"I'm sorry we had to move," he says, supporting your arm as you adjust your dress. "I wasn't gonna have that asshole ruining this for you and you know what he's like around y-" The rest of Genji's sentence was swallowed in what sounded almost like a growl, and his grip on your upper arm tightened like a vice, making you startle. You straightened up to see what was wrong, but then followed his gaze to the nearby bar. The girl in gold was there, shouting her order over the music, and next to her was Yuuto, staring back at Genji with dark fire in his eyes, ill intent sketched into every line of him. Those narrowed eyes flick to you next and travel up your body so slowly that you can almost feel them, they crawl like insects across your skin and you fight back the urge to retch. Slowly, as though pulled by old and rusted mechanical parts, Yuuto turns away and goes back to his phone, typing a text.

 

At a loss, you and Genji flee into the night, diving into a cab.

 

***

 

The courtyard was silent when you passed the back gate of the castle, the lamps in all the surrounding buildings extinguished. The sound of your footsteps seemed obscenely loud in the still night and the stars above winked through the cherry blossom like glitter. The ground was carpeted in fallen flowers near the trees, and it is here that Genji leads you, the petals muffling your footsteps as he draws you close and sways back and forth. You giggle and he sighs against your neck, content.

 

"Are we slow-dancing right now?"

 

He nuzzles his nose into your hair, just behind your ear, in what you think is an affirming nod. "Yup. Can't let one little thing ruin our night, not when you look so lovely." He whirls you in a wide arc away from him and then spins you into his chest again, twirling across the courtyard with you. Your steps are uncoordinated and there's no music playing, but you dance, under the heavy scented trees and the clear night sky.

 

"I had fun," you admit, gazing up at Genji, who looks back with adoration in his eyes. "I really did. Thank you for making me feel, I dunno-" Your lips stretch into a smile. "Special."

 

He spins you around, setting you laughing and then captures you in a breathless hold, crushing you against his chest. "You are," he says, and his voice is serious and quiet. "I don't know what you do to me. I like it, but it's strange. I said earlier, I never thought I could have... This." He kisses you then and his hands wind into your hair, clutching desperate handfuls of it as though it's worth all the money in the world to him, and you kiss just as hard back, arms wrapping around his waist. You part with panting breaths and wide smiles. Movement catches out the corner of your eye.

 

"Oh uh, my apologies, Shimada-sama," stammers the castle guard who had encroached on quite the scene. He continues in Japanese before turning and hurrying away. You can hear his quick footsteps turn into running as he disappears from sight. Genji straightens up, back stiff, face drained of colour. You cup his cheek, worried suddenly.

 

"Why would he have to tell Hanzo that I'm back?" Genji says, more to himself than you, then shakes his head like a dog emerging from a lake, focuses on you. "Listen, I'm gonna have to go and find my brother, you should go back to the dorms. Quietly!" He adds this last reminder with a smile and a kiss on your cheek, hugs you goodbye quickly. You call after him.

 

"I'll see you tomorrow!"

 

He turns back before hurrying off into the shadows. "Promises, promises."

 

After he is gone you slip into the castle through one of the least used hallways, the one that runs between the kitchens, the armory, and the laundry rooms. They would be deserted at this time of night, all the work ready to begin in the morning, the rooms suspended in time from the end of work that night; pots unwashed floating in bubbles, towels and linens unfolded, swords half sharpened. It is difficult to sneak in this dress, but you stay as quiet as possible. To your left there is a clang of metal and a shape emerges from the armory; in panic you flatten yourself against the wall, but your traitorous tongue has other ideas.

 

"Ha... Hanzo?"

 

The older Shimada turns and sees you, bedecked in your finery against a wall. He looks like he hasn't slept in days; his hair is tangled and greasy, and a blue-black mask of stubble threatens to overwhelm his face. He is dressed for battle or training, his dragon tattoo exposed, vivid and blue against the dim light and his skin. He mutters your name and shifts just so, accidentally allowing the light to catch on the sword that he carries at his side. Your eyes dart from that gleaming edge to his face, and he will not look at you.

 

"Hanzo, where are you going?"

 

He bristles at that, hand falling to the hilt of his weapon. "You should be in the dormitories. You are out of bounds, out of hours, and out of line." He doesn't sound angry, his voice flat and dead sounding, like the slither of autumn leaves. "And dressed inappropriately."

 

You take a step towards him, drawing yourself up to your full height. "Hanzo," you say again, trying to steel your wavering voice. "Where are you going _with that_?"

 

He focuses on you now, as best he can, and you can see the dark rings under his eyes. "If you don't leave, immediately, I will have you fired," he threatens. You stare him down with a harsh shrug, planting your feet like roots and refusing to move. He heaves a sigh. "Fine. Have it your way." There is a _shing!_ as he draws the sword, holding it against your throat. The metal is cold and the bite of it against your sensitive throat manages to draw a whimper from you. Hanzo's eyebrows are knitted together and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he considers you. The light in the hallways dims; something, or someone, is blocking the doorway and they call Hanzo's name. Hanzo stills, backs up, sheathes the sword. He barks something over his shoulder in Japanese, never taking his eyes off you.

 

"Take this one back to her room," he says, in English, making sure you understand. "Keep her there." And then he is hurrying off, allowing you to see past him to the figure approaching from the door, still resplendent and repulsive in his black suit and slicked back hair.

 

"Stay the fuck away from me, Yuuto."

 

He chuckles darkly at the steel edge in your voice. "Afraid not. You see, I have an order to take you home and I'm not about to start ignoring orders now."

 

He reaches out to grab your arm and it is as if time slows down; Genji's voice is in your head now, ' _always keep moving, keep your opponent on their toes_ , and you duck under Yuuto's arm, slamming an elbow into his ribs. With a roar, he turns and grabs both your arms as you rush past, lifting you clear off the ground and you thrash wildly in his gasp, screaming ' _get off me, get off me, getoffmegetoffme_!' over and over until your throat is shredded and aching. You swing a leg back and hear the unmistakable tear of silk as your dress rips up to the thigh, and your foot connects solidly with Yuuto's groin, making him drop you and double over. Genji's voice is back in your head, ' _exploit any weaknesses, find a gap_ ', and you slam a knee into Yuuto's face, grimacing as you feel his nose crumple under your strike and blood splatters your dress. You rear back and kick him in the head with such force that he is thrown into the wall, crumbling to the floor like a marionette with the strings cut. You stand for a moment over his unconscious form, breathing ragged and heavy and then you run.

 

You don't follow Hanzo, afraid of being caught, resolving to run to Genji's room and see if he is back there now. Stopping briefly you tear a slit into the other side of the dress to match, deciding that it's ruined anyway and it'll make it easier to run.

 

A clock strikes 1am somewhere in the castle and outside an animal howls mournfully. You round a corner, barely watching where you're going; there is shouting outside somewhere, and you are trying to listen in, and find your way blocked by an omnic, Kenshin, you've run into Kenshin again and what is he doing out here in a black uniform, and why is that logo so familiar-?

 

Kenshin says your name in relief and holds you still even as you fight to get away.

 

"No, no, hold still," he begs, clutching your upper arms. "Look, something big is going down, and we can't have you getting in the way."

 

Your eyes adjust to the dark and you realise that there are other people in the hallway behind Kenshin; the black guy with the scarred cheek and goatee, and a young man, younger than you even, a teenager really, with messy brown hair. Both of them are looking at you curiously but seemingly finding you less than a threat they go back to their conversation. It makes no sense to you, something about a doctor named Ziegler and the situation escalating faster than they would have wanted. You look again at Kenshin's uniform; the orange logo is Overwatch you realise, but it's crossed by an unfamiliar white symbol that at first looks like a bird, then a dagger, then a plane. Something pricks your arm, and your head spins.

 

"Kenshin, wait, no, I have to find Genji, I have to warn-" You stop to smack your lips which suddenly feel thick and heavy, incapable of speech. You look at the omnic in puzzlement, eyes unfocused.

 

"It's just a mild sedative," he explains, voice calm and quiet. "You'll be right as rain, let me get you back to your room." He explains the situation to his superior, who grunts and then speaks. He's American you realise, maybe Hispanic.

 

"Alright, but be quick."

 

You are still fighting to get away as Kenshin leads you up some stairs and across a covered bridge, limbs heavy and speech slurred. He is trying to reassure you, being as gentle as possible, and hot tears roll down your cheeks in frustration.

 

You are still on the bridge when the night lights up blue in the distance and you hear it, as loud as if Hanzo was standing a foot away from you.

 

" _Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau_!"

 

The last thing you hear as your vision goes white is the roar of the dragons and a single, agonised scream that goes on and on.


	11. Things Change

You tongue is thick and heavy with sedative, your eyes roll wildly in your head as you try and focus on something, anything. Kenshin had left you in your room on your bed not too long ago but you'd fought your way back to your feet and crawled to the window, clinging to the sill so hard that your nails carve pale ditches in the wood. The fighting across the castle was over but the night was far from silent, the whole sky alive now with lightning and distant booms of thunder. The rain hadn't started falling yet, but you were, your knees buckling under you, and you fall to the floor, hands still wrapped around the windowsill. You realise that you are sobbing, howling like a wounded animal, loud as the thunder. You sit there, curled under the window in a torn and bloodied dress that cost more than anything you owned, the green of Genji's gift to you glinting over your heart like a mirror. 

You knew the shout that had rung out; Hanzo and his dragons, savage and blue and dangerous, glowing like nuclear fire and coiling round each other like snakes. You knew exactly what had happened, in you heart, in your very marrow, you knew what had happened to Genji in the rain-soaked castle, but you were unwilling to accept it. You wanted a body, drained of blood, lifeless and pale, before you even considered mourning. 

The night is cut in two with a roar, separate to the storm. You twist your neck skywards, craning for a glimpse of whatever is out there, whatever is filling the sky with the roar of a mighty engine and whirring blades. A vast ship, black and shiny with moisture descends from the clouds, parting them like dampened paper, and even as you watch a door swings downwards and an angel emerges. You blink, hard, but when you open your eyes the angel is still there, descending towards the ground on huge golden wings, glowing yellow and blue in streams behind it as it falls. Your eyes manage to focus on it, falling like a shooting star, and the last thing you see before the blackness finally takes you is angel wings spreading wider as it comes in to land.

***

"Fuck, c'mere, you're a mess..."

It was morning, late morning by the strength of the sunlight you were laying in, bright and golden and hot, so hot after the rain. Poppy had let herself into your room after shouting her way past the guard that Hanzo had assigned to the door. She was scooping you up off the floor now, taking in your ruined dress, the blood across your skirt and on your knuckles, the splinters under your fingernails. You groan weakly and go boneless, allowing her to lift your weight off the floor. _Dead weight_ you think to yourself and you suddenly have to fight the urge to laugh hysterically, physically biting your tongue until you taste the copper tang of blood. Poppy is warm as she crushes you to her chest before depositing you on your bed, settling herself on the floor next to it, grasps your hand. You clutch back, the steady thrum of Poppy's pulse reminding you that you, too, are alive.

"I can't just lay here, I need to shower, I need to go somewhere, I need to find-"

"No," Poppy says, and her voice is quiet and flat. "You're not getting past that suit outside, trust me. But a shower is something you could probably manage." 

Neither of you moves, however. Your hand clenched in hers, both your knuckles white. You speak, and your voice is dry and cracked like dead leaves.

"Is he dead?" 

Poppy doesn't answer, licks her lips, avoids your eyes.

"Poppy," you say, louder this time, but your voice trembles. "Is Genji dead?" 

She opens her mouth to answer, tear-filled eyes raising to meet yours, but whatever shaking answer passes her lips is drowned as the bells over Shimada Castle begin to toll, the same melancholy alarm that told everyone of the death of Sojiro, ringing out for the death of the sparrow that he raised. The tears spill over Poppy's cheeks, cling to her lashes, but you merely turn your face back to the ceiling and nod once. You swallow, loudly. 

"I think I'm gonna take that shower."

You stand, shaking, and strip yourself of the ruined dress on your way there, ignoring Poppy completely. You would feel bad about it, but you weren't feeling much of anything right now. The bathroom door slams behind you as you wrench the water on, the patter of cold droplets catching on your skin and making you flinch. It warms up a little and you step under the stream, bracing yourself on the cold tile wall.

He came to you so clearly in the shower, always had done, ever since he fixed your hair during the party all those weeks ago. Something about the white noise of the water lets you focus your mind and always find him there. The feel of his hands is first; big, warm, slightly calloused, nimble and clever. Then his scent, faint and warm and comforting. His voice is always there, lurking just below the surface, bright and lilting. His laugh. The curve of his smile is bright behind your eyelids. You can see him as you saw him in the arcade, bathed in pink neon lights, or as you saw him the morning before, nude and sweaty and wrapped in a sheet, or tearstained and nervous in your bed the night Sojiro died. Your mind settles on Genji in his suit only hours before, dancing with you under the cherry blossom, and you hold him there tremulously, but the image shifts and ripples in your mind, drips red and glows blue as Hanzo's callout echoes around your head again.

You stay there, frozen, until the water starts running cold.

***

Cherry blossoms spiral round and around over the shaking castle, suspended in time in thick, viscous liquid. Poppy shakes the snow globe again to keep the pink plastic petals airborne, the two of you side by side on your bed, looking silently into the trinket; the one you'd bought the day you found Genji in the arcade. You tell her how he kicked your ass on the dance machine, how he'd kissed your hand, the way he looked under the neon lights. She'd brushed your hair for you, and politely turned away as you'd dressed in your work uniform. She'd even handed you the sparrowhawk feather that he'd left you before; it was tucked into your pocket so that you could search out it's softness if you needed, trace it with light fingers. You rest your head on her shoulder as you watch the petals spiral down, down, and they jog your memory.

"A ship came," you say, slowly, almost to yourself. "An airship, huge thing. Loud. You must have seen it?" Poppy looks down at you, confusion written in the quirk of her eyebrow.

"No? You said you were sedated, right? Was it Yuuto?" You shake your head.

"Kenshin," you explain, taking the snow globe. "He was with some other guys, in uniform, Overwatch uniform, I was in the way of something. I-" Poppy looks incredulous. "I sound crazy, don't I?" Poppy shrugs, dislodges your head.

"You were sedated, I'm sure you're fine," she says reassuringly, patting your hand. "We'll see Kenshin later, at the assembly thing that Hanzo called." She'd told you about this earlier while brushing your hair, explaining that it would probably be the announcement of Genji's funeral. 

There is a gentle tap at the door, cursory more than anything as the bodyguard pushes it open anyway and instructs you to head to the temple for the assembly. You stand and take the arm that Poppy offers.

You don't tell her about the angel.

***

_Meanwhile, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean._

"Doctor Ziegler, are you sure-"

_Mouth a thorn bush of wire and thread, slicing my gums, embedding in my cheeks, holding what remains of my jaw together. Where am I?_

"Fuck me running, he's almost cut in half, Angela..."

"Reyes, either scrub in or get the fuck out while I'm working."

_Tongue thick, painful, stitches crisscross like crossword puzzles. Words. Need to find words. Wordsearch, not crossword. Why won't they talk to me?_

"The life support concept...?"

"The nanites are still trying to stop his intestines falling out!"

"Morrison's already trying to get in here, recruiting."

"Tell Morrison he can e-"

_Eyes roll, viscous like jelly not yet set. Flutter, flick open. Where? I remember her, the girl in the dress. Is she here?_

" _Hostia puta_ , he's awake!"

" _Out_ , Reyes!"

***

It is a weird reversal of Sojiro's funeral. Everyone is shoved into the temple together, staff and nobility and crime families alike. Yuuto is only a scant few people behind you and you can feel his steely gaze rake over the back of your head, a razor in the form of a look, but you keep your head up. Your face is stony, in stark comparison to the scared and confused people around you. You know Hanzo sees you. You know he ignores you. You feel vindicated, but only until he starts speaking. Four translators stand at his side, replicating his words over and over; English, Russian, Chinese, a sign language too fast for you to follow. Your gaze flicks to the English translator. She keeps her translations short, brusque.

"Genji Shimada is dead," she says, looking at Hanzo in disbelief for the merest fraction of a second. "There will not be a funeral. There will not be a break to mourn. I-" She pauses, frowns, continues. "I will now invite the other heads of houses up for my swearing in as the successor of my father, Sojiro. Thank you for your time. Please return to work."

The other elders easily push through the crowd as you are all stunned into silence. Yuuto is right behind you, you can feel him there with that presence that makes your skin crawl. He hisses something in your ear, but his voice is thick from his broken nose and Reo is soon ushering him away. Yuuto's eyes are almost swollen shut and dark blue with bruises. 

With a quick glance back you notice the head of house from the meeting isn't there, the man you'd seen with Kenshin. No goatee-wearing guy, no teenager, no short Scandinavian guy. No Kenshin either; surely he would have found you and Poppy if he was here.

The tapestry behind Hanzo has a slash through it. Bile rises in your throat.

Poppy drags you out of the temple, and you follow, leaden limbs and swivelling eyes. 

"C'mon, I'm taking you back to your room," Poppy says, and her hand on your arm is vice-like, a stone edge in her voice. "I think I can afford to ignore Hanzo for one day, and so can you." You smile at that, a weak and forced thing, but it is still a smile. 

"One day isn't nearly long enough," you manage, and your own voice sounds foreign to you already. "But it's a start."

***

You slept, or tried to. The day had drawn on too long and Poppy hadn't been allowed back in your room, so you were left alone, with only a door between you and a guard whose suit jacket bulged with the telltale lines of a concealed weapon. You paced, wrung your hands, pulled on your hair with your hands flush against your scalp, tried to summon tears and your eyes remained dry. You barely remembered sobbing when you were doped up with sedative, but you couldn't find that pain, that animalistic urge to howl and scream and rent the air in two with your anguish was buried somewhere under rock and stone and sand. 

You drew the curtains, laid on your bed, and stared up at the ceiling, watching as it got darker. Once, the guard at the door knocked and asked if you were hungry, but you merely rolled over and pretended to snore. Your hand kept creeping under your shirt to clutch your necklace, smoothing a thumb over the smooth green surface like a worry stone. You closed your eyes, ignoring the time on your bedside clock that marches steadily onwards despite your silent pleas for it to halt. Why had time not stopped, the earth stopped turning, the castle walls crumbled to dust? You felt like they had. You felt like you'd been in a hell of a boxing match and at the same time like you were sitting next to yourself, watching someone else in pain with an eerie detachment that chilled you. 

You couldn't sleep in this bed. 

You crept to the door and crouched low, peering under; twin shadows, the legs of the guard outside your door moved slightly. You hoped he wasn't explaining what he was really doing here to everyone who had undoubtedly asked him. Hanzo's story was that Genji's death meant that there was extra security everywhere, even the dorms. 

Next stop was the window which you opened, wincing as it squealed upwards inch by painstaking inch. You poked your head out through the curtains, looking down at the drop with a gulp; the castle was old and stone, which offered convenient handholds, but they were slick with the rain of last night and the darkness around was all-enveloping, not even broken by the friendly glow of the moon. 

_Keep moving, don't let them catch you._

The memory of Genji's voice was fainter than ever, and you knew that his advice was more for fight than flight, but it steeled you inside.

Casting one glance back at your mercifully closed bedroom door, you dropped out of the window.

***

_Meanwhile, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean._

"Remarkable job Angela, as always..."

_Ears are popping. Altitude dropping. Everything hurts, heart beating too fast. Why can't I move?_

"Jack, you can't, he's barely awake, the sedative is barely wearing off."

"Nonsense, he twitched, that's enough."

_The man, Jack. He's next to me, smells like ozone and sweat. Jaw wired shut, wires digging in, braces all over again._

"Excuse me, Mr. Shimada, can you hear me?"

_Open your eyes, Genji, goddammit, ah! It's bright, too bright. He's all in blue, haloed by the too-bright. Blonde hair. Who are you, Jack?_

"I'd like to make you an offer, if you're willing to listen?"

"Jack, he can't talk, his jaw..."

"I can see that Angela, but I'm sure our guest can nod or shake his head. Roll his eyes. Something."

_I know that symbol. Overwatch. Gods, why does everything ache so? My right arm is stinging, cold. What can he see? My jaw's inside my head..._

"Genji, I'd like to talk to you about your family. And then I'd like to talk to you about Overwatch."

_Nod. Yes that's it, slowly. What's that sound, like a computer fan, a mechanical whirring... What's happened? Why am I even HERE? Just play along, for now. Where's Hanzo?_

"Good. Have you ever heard of Blackwatch?"

***

You were breathless, sweaty. You'd run most of the way up to the Shimada apartments, keeping your head low and walking slowly lest you pass an actual Shimada, or worse, Yuuto; you weren't sure you'd be able to kick his ass twice in as many days. Weren't sure you had it in you. Somehow, you knew exactly what Genji would say about you breaking Yuuto's nose, and it would undoubtedly involve a lot of laughing, his laugh. 

You stood outside his door, Genji's door, forehead and knuckles resting on the wood. You knocked twice, half-heartedly, a single grain of hope nudging around in your insides that this day had been a cruel joke and he would open the door and gather you into his arms, crush you against his chest and whisper into your hair. 

But he didn't.

Almost jokingly, you tried the door handle, reasoning that Hanzo would have locked it already, that it wouldn't open.

But it did.

You dropped the handle, flinging the door away and open as though the touch of it was suddenly burning. The room beyond was lit somehow; the bathroom light was still on, the faint whir of the fan oscillating in the half-dark. Your hands flew to your mouth, horrified, but your feet, those traitorous feet that had led you here time and time again, were stepping into this place, this shrine, quiet as the grave but for the fan. You shut the door behind you and stood in the gloom, utterly alone. 

_This is morbid. Disgusting. Go back to your room._

Even as you admonished yourself you knew exactly why you had come here. 

Dropping your hands from your mouth you clambered into the bed, wrapped yourself in the sheets and fluffy duvet, cold to the bone suddenly. The smell of him, that faint flowery scent of detergent and his cologne and his shampoo and that one warm, undeniable scent of Genji Shimada, was everywhere all at once and you could have choked on it if you breathed too deep. The bed was so much softer than your own and you burrowed into it, as though swimming, as though you could drop through the mattress and drown there in the dark, choked on shadows and starlight, strangled by the sheets. 

You breathe though, and it comes up as a wracked, shaking, death-rattle of a sob.

Finally, alone in the dark in the bed of a dead man, you cry.


	12. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Enveloped in darkness you walk, alone, down a path that you cannot see. The darkness is so complete, so thick and viscous, that you cannot even see your hands in front of your face. You're not even sure if you have your eyes open, but even as that thought crosses your mind stars blink to life, glittering in what must be the sky above you. They cast no shadows nor give out any light, but there they are, dangling just out of reach. You feet bump into something and you tentatively reach out in front of you, eyes still cast skyward, and realise that there are stairs, and you begin to climb, clinging to the banister as the staircase twists and turns upwards, swaying lightly in a breeze that you can't feel. 

"Not stars," you say to yourself as you go, the glint of metal hanging all around the higher you go. "Shurikens." 

You're right. There's endless weapons, sharp as sin and twice as deadly, dangling like Christmas ornaments from nothing. Some brush against your arms harmlessly as you walk, the stairs spiralling ever narrower and steeper. You look up again, stopping on the stairs and the glints of the shurikens' edges form sky-sized eyes before yours, first red then black then red again as the dangling weapons spin in the air. Behind you, a faint, mechanical voice.

"Something big is going down, and we can't have you getting in the way."

You spin, almost falling. "Kenshin?"

Of course, nobody is there. There's a crackling sound, like distant thunder, and the shurikens fall, dropping harmlessly like rain, bouncing off your skin like water droplets. The eyes disappear. You feel a pang of familiarity in your chest, and it hurts, blooming like a mushroom cloud under your ribs. 

You drop to sit on the steps, and find nothing but empty air; you are falling, falling in slow motion, and the dark sky above you moves away with a roar of engines and whirring blades, blue sky beyond slicing through and half-blinding you to the orange and white logo on the bottom of the retreating airship, a black sword slicing through the white slash across the bright circle. 

Before you hit the ground a familiar voice whispers your name, and the pang in your chest is a full blown inferno. You can't put a name to the voice.

You jolt awake with a gasp, heaving air through your parched throat as though you were drowning. The sun spills in through the window and you are coated in a fine layer of sweat beneath your uniform, tangled in the sheets of Genji's bed, even now the scent of him fading away. There's a clatter to your right, and your heart leaps into your throat, whipping your head around, expecting green hair and a grin bordered by catlike canines.

"You talk in your sleep," Hanzo says instead, righting the stack of books that he had knocked over. He's leaning heavily on Genji's desk, bracing himself, and even from across the room the stink of alcohol oozes out of his pores and assaults your nose. You're too shocked to even scream, and who would even listen if you did? You were the one who crawled out a window to come and sleep fitfully in a dead man's bed. Hanzo wrinkles his nose, as though you're the one who reeks of sake. "Why are you here?"

You manage to stand, brushing yourself down, dragging your fingers through your hair to loosen the tangles of your tossing and turning. "Why are _you_ here?"

Hanzo laughs, a harsh and humorless sound that sets your teeth on edge. You notice a series of blue-black bruises staining his face, around one eye and across his nose. You can't help but swell a little with pride; Genji got a couple of shots in at least. That was more than you could ask for. 

"I just walked in to tidy the place after a little, ah, liquid courage. This is my family home," he says, and his voice wavers, with unshed tears or the wooziness of alcohol you cannot tell. "This is my br- _was_ my brother's room." He shakes his head, free hand coming up to clutch his forehead, cradling it. "You should have heard him in his last moments. He asked for you. Begged, even. You would have thought him path-"

Hanzo does not finish his sentence as he reels backward, an angry red imprint of your hand across his cheek. His eyes bulge, anger and horror in equal measure, and you flush as red as the slap mark, covering your mouth, shocked at yourself. Justly sobered, Hanzo drags his fingertips down the mark as though testing it. You seem to have grown roots, unable to move. 

"I should have you fired for that," he purrs. Hanzo's voice is pure venom, poison dripping from every clipped, growled syllable. He kicks out the desk chair, motions harshly for you to sit down, and you unfreeze momentarily to do as he says. Your hands grip the arms so tight that your knuckles turn white, pressing up against your skin as though the bones could break through, like hatching eggshells. "I won't though." He isn't looking at you, he's straightening the books on the desk again, fussing. "You know too much." You clear your throat as though to speak and he casts you a look of such disappointment that your words wither and die on your tongue; the taste is bitter. 

Hanzo is leaning on the desk again, drumming his fingers, looking out the window. Every muscle and sinew of him is taut, as though about to run or fight, and you aren't sure which one you would rather. 

"I mean," you say, trying to cut the tension. "I wouldn't fire me. You saw what I did t-to Yuuto's nose, right?" 

The air is still for a beat longer than is comfortable, and then Hanzo makes a half humming, half choking sound that you realise is repressed laughter. You join in awkwardly, a half-hearted giggle. You sit, laughing in an otherwise silent room with the person you hate most in the world, the absurdity of it dawning on you both so suddenly that the laughter just builds and builds, until your vision blurs and you realise that tears are slipping down your cheeks. They're cold, and they gather under your chin in a single fat droplet, but it feels good. Cathartic. Hanzo sighs, heaving a steadying breath as he pushes himself back to his feet.

"I loved him," Hanzo says, and his head drops forwards, drooping like it's too heavy for his neck. "He was my brother, I would have done anything for him. I'd do anything for any of my family." He sways for a moment, rubs his temples.

"I'll come back in an hour, you'll be gone by then." Hanzo states this as a fact, not a request, and makes for the door. As it squeaks open he calls your name, just your name, no honorifics or insults. You swivel in the chair to face him, even though he is facing the hallway beyond.

"I did not deserve him as a brother," he says, and his voice is low and slow, choosing his words carefully, selecting them like chess pieces. "I hope you know I feel that way."

He is gone with a banal click of the door, leaving you to ponder whether he meant that in a good or a bad way. 

***

"You've got the afternoon off."

The statement takes you by surprise, making you drop your broom. You'd been restricted to the kitchens and grand hall, out of the way of anyone who might still be lingering after Hanzo's succession ceremony, and the bar staff and waiters had kept you busy sweeping and folding and scrubbing. It was one of the bar people who spoke to you now, resplendent in their ubiquitous white shirts and waistcoats. He was polishing a cut crystal wine glass, holding it up to the light; the glint of it distracts you momentarily, sending your mind back to the shurikens in your dream. You flush, bend to pick up the broom.

"Wha- Why? I'm supposed to deep clean the counters after this, and fetch ice, and-" Your head spins, going over the huge list of stuff you have to do. The other guy shakes his head.

"Nope, boss man says you're off," he says, quirking an eyebrow at what must have been one hell of an emotional journey across your face. "You're taking Poppy to the airport."

Your blood turned to ice. "That's _today_?" Your companion merely nods in affirmation, slinging his cleaning cloth over his shoulder as he disappears into the kitchen. 

Your eyes flick over to the huge, golden clock hanging on the far wall; you've got an hour to make yourself presentable. _Shit._

***

_Meanwhile, somewhere over the south of Spain._

"Ah good, the clothes we sent over fit!"

_Doctor Ziegler is a kind woman, always busy, snappy but not unpleasant. She inspects my new arm, my new jaw. She had explained the extent of my injuries, but not how they happened. Shattered lower jaw replaced..._

"We'll be landing in Gibraltar shortly, you'll have your own room and then you'll have to report to Commander Morrison and Reyes and meet the rest of the team-"

_Right arm completely severed, replaced. Shurikens pop out of the wrist when I flex it, she's had me practicing. The short guy, the Swede, he brings me new ones to try sometimes. I'm a mess of wires and scar tissue. Heart beats too fast._

"I guess I'll see you on the ground. Hang onto something, landing can be a bit bumpy."

_She leaves, and I move to the mirror. I've not looked at myself yet, avoid my own gaze in the glass. I pull up the tshirt, plain black like the sweatpants. New arm is heavy, painful, I feel the original one spasm in pain at night right as I fall asleep. New lung, new liver, both silicone and copper and titanium. Legs were shattered, I obviously fell off something. New shins, one new thigh. Most of my abdomen is still there._

"Prepare for landing, arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar."

_The AI, named after some ancient god. She is always calm. I try and remain so too. Blackwatch, whatever they are, need me for something, whatever that is. This man, Reyes will tell me when I get on the ground. Hand dips into the sweatpants and I idly wonder who dressed me and why they left me commando. I chide myself internally for being such a guy - at least everything seems to be, uh, working. The hand withdraws, the shirt drops. I close my eyes, even as I try and force myself to look at my own face._

"Unrestrained passenger in medbay; please return to a seat and fasten your seatbelt."

_Ah, that's me then. I turn from the mirror. Too scared to look at my own face, but a face swims up behind my eyelids. A girl, a woman. Her hair looks soft and somewhere deep inside I know it is. Her name dances at the tip of my tongue but can't make it past, clashes against my teeth, won't form on my lips. I know her lips too, know how they taste like honey and brush against skin like feathers. My eyes snap open, turbulence jolting me, and I see eyes stained red with circuitry, a face that is more scar than skin, puckered and weathered, 50 years added to my 25._

_Her voice comes to me, from a long time ago, when my biggest blemish was a scar through my eyebrow. You know what they say:_

_Chicks dig scars._

***

Later, changed from your uniform into jeans and arm-in-arm with Poppy, you cross the threshold of the airport outside Hanamura, the automatic doors whisking open and ushering you into the chilly terminal, air conditioner on full blast despite the grey autumn day beyond. Both of you drags a huge suitcase behind you, and Poppy's carry-on is full to bursting. You check in with relative ease and then you are awkwardly standing by the security line, both of you shuffling your feet and avoiding looking at each other.

"God," Poppy says, and her voice cracks a little through the laugh in it. "I _really_ didn't want to cry anymore." You chuckle at that, a breathless thing with no real joy in it, and look down as though the worn toes of your sneakers are suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. You shrug, and reach into your own backpack, hand reemerging with the snowglobe, the little facsimile of Shimada Castle under the shimmering pink petals that replaced the snow. 

"I want you to have this," you say, lifting your gaze to her face, which is shiny and soaked with tears. "But I uh, made one small addition." You spin the globe to show her the blurry Polaroid attached to the side with tape; a picture of the dorms, left off the original miniature. She makes a choked sob, and suddenly you are being hugged.

"Fucks sake, you- You kill me, you know that?" She backs off then, takes the snowglobe, puts it in her luggage. "I didn't get you anything." You wave a dismissive hand, but you smile, twin tear tracks down your cheeks. A security guard waves her over towards the security line and she quickly asks him for just one more minute. You hug again, reciprocal this time.

"Look after yourself, okay? Keep in touch. Be careful. Don't let the bastards grind you down." You laugh at her goodbye and pat her back.

"Go change the world, Poppy." 

She lets you go with one last grin and then joins the line. "You too. You bloody too."

You watch as she passes through the metal detector and out of sight, waving even after she can't see you and then stuff your hands in the pockets of your bomber jacket and walk outside. It's the one with the green dragon curling up the back, two more of them twined around each cuff. You hate to admit it, but the sight of them makes you feel safer. 

You forgo a cab for once, opting to take the bus; you get to grab a free ride by flashing your work ID, the driver waving you on with an air of something that borders on fear, teetering between that and reverence. You sit near the back, blessedly alone, and rest your head against the cool window, grateful that the electric engine stops the whole thing rattling like the buses back home. You close your eyes as your breath fogs the window; it was gonna be a long ride back and the tiredness had settled in your bones. Grief clung to you like a wet blanket, chilling and heavy and immovable. You felt a need to talk to someone, to anyone... Not anyone. Not _just anyone_.

Your eyes lose focus, and you spend much of the drive home gazing at the streetlights and neon lights flickering through the fogged window like lightning.

***

_Meanwhile in Gibraltar._

_This place is huge. Endless rooms. Training rooms glowing with light, a dining hall that stretches on forever. A sea of recruits all in black, agents in blue. The other Blackwatch agents were polite, already acting brotherly. Kenshin especially. I'd almost dropped my brand new jaw when I saw him._

"So, it was your family business we wanted to talk to you about."

_Now, Reyes' office. The cowboy is here too, leaning back on his chair, chewing on a thin, hand-rolled cigarette. Gabriel won't let him light it in here. It's been just under a day, introductions were swift and plans were being unfurled; I still haven't said a word. I nod. I shrug. I stay quiet._

"Listen, Shimada, you've gotta cooperate with us here. You've seen a lot of this place. You know names, and faces, and locations. We're taking a huge risk here, the very least you can do is trust us." 

"Hey, t'be fair, y'took a risk with me too..."

"Yeah, and look how that turned out. Shut up, Jesse."

_I am disappointed in myself for heaving a sigh and rolling my eyes, like I am fifteen years old again and confronted by Hanzo for some minor transgression. Some kind of fan whirrs in the new parts of my chest. Time to give these new vocal chords a whirl._

"I suppose you are right. What do you want to know?"

_The two stop bickering and look at me. I hate the way it sounds, my own voice is foreign to me now. I don't even have my own voice, let alone my body. What am I living for now?_

***

You weren't quite sure how or when you got here, only that the stone floor was cold and hard under your knees, solid and sturdy and _real_. 

You'd returned to the temple where you'd heard that Genji wouldn't be getting a funeral, just off of the courtyard where you had danced with him under the fragrant trees, mere hours before the airship and the angel. You knelt, lit a stick of incense, and tried to empty your mind. That was the idea of this meditation stuff, wasn't it? To be at one with oneself, to think nothing, to be empty... Being empty was harder than it sounded. Your eyes flick constantly back to the slash through the tapestry on the back wall, surrounded with the rust-red stain of dried blood. Why hadn't Hanzo taken it down? You were on your feet before you knew it, approaching the art on soft socked feet, footfalls silent like a cats. 

You take the fabric between your thumb and forefinger, rubbing gently; it was heavy and thick, and probably more expensive to make than the temple it was hanging in. Blood flakes off in a visceral mockery of snow. You rub again and it leaves a faded stain on your fingers like ink that hadn't washed off properly. It was something, a reminder, proof that Genji Shimada had been alive, had had a pulse, a heartbeat. A heart. You stare at the stain on your hand for a little while too long, then drop it to your side, weak and boneless.

"I have no one," you say aloud to the dragons on the tapestry. "No friends. Nobody to talk to. What do I do?" You tap on the wall impatiently, as though expecting an audible answer from the woven dragons; one blue, one green, locked in battle. The Shimada dragons that you'd heard so much about. "C'mon, I thought you guys were meant to be wise." All that comes to mind is the fact you've got no idea why Asian dragons don't have wings. You're sure the ones in your fairytale books growing up had wings. You say 'wings' over and over, fixating on it til it doesn't even sound real anymore, just a meaningless jumble of syllables to keep your mind occupied. Wingswingswingswings...

_Wings._

Your mind's eye is filled with glowing angel wings again for the hundredth time since you'd seen them, but this time you yank your phone from your pocket and begin frantically searching on your browser. 'Overwatch wings', 'Overwatch flight', 'Overwatch angel', there!

Before you know it, you are sat on the cold steps of the temple watching a news report about someone named Doctor Angela Ziegler debuting a new technology called a Valkyrie suit and, there before your disbelieving eyes, the descending angel from the night that Genji died turns out not to be a harbinger of doom but a Swiss doctor in a suit that would look more at home in battle, wielding life and death like daggers. The sight robs the breath from your throat.

You minimize the video, heart pounding over the audio through your earbuds, and chastise yourself for not coming to your new conclusion earlier.

Before you get up off the steps and hurry back to your room, you search one last thing:

'join Overwatch'.


	13. Nodus Tollens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Nodus Tollens: the realisation that your life doesn't make sense to you anymore.
> 
> //I hope you're ready for this.

"What do you mean you're leaving? You've not even been here a _year_!"

You had expected a less than positive reaction from your boss, but she was practically spitting feathers when you told her. You'd brought along the letter that you'd received, bearing the unmistakable orange and white seal of Overwatch, as proof. You neglected to mention that it had also come with a timetable, tickets to Spain, and a uniform consisting of black sweatpants, t-shirts, and a hat, all bearing a grey version of that same logo. You'd tried them on after your morning shower every day since they'd arrived, all seven of them dawning as cold as the last, and the sight of yourself wrapped in black like a shadow sent a little thrill through you, you had to admit.

"I know I just, after everything that's happened-" You pause, opening the letter to read it again, scanning over the finely typed print that promised Overwatch was always looking for new recruits. "It'd be a change of scenery." You finish your lame excuse with a weak laugh, avoiding your superior's eyes as she drags her fingertips down her face in exasperation. 

"First Poppy, now you," she groans, resting her chin in her hands. "I suppose there's no stopping you now." She heaves a sigh through her nose when you shake your head. "Well, then I have one condition." She stands up and you swivel in your chair to follow her movements as she stalks across the room and grabs a heavy-looking loop of keys, tosses them deftly to you. "You have to tell Hanzo yourself. Take him his breakfast, he's not up yet. The keys are labelled." You check and sure enough, next to a torn and empty label reading 'Genji', there is an iron key labelled 'Hanzo'.

"I suppose there's no way out of this one?" You ask, pleading just a little. Your supervisor shakes her head, a smile crossing her face for the first time all morning, and you sigh, slumping back in your chair and swinging the keys around your finger so they jingle obnoxiously. "Ugh, fine. As long as his breakfast isn't too heavy, or I'm liable to chuck it at him."

***

You knocked again on Hanzo's door, more of a cursory gesture as you had already unlocked the door and kicked it open, arms full of a covered tray. You couldn't find it in you to be polite today, however.

"Hanzo, wake up," you call as you bustle into the room, dropping the tray onto his desk and whisking open the curtains. Hanzo groans at the touch of sunlight and curls around his pillow; the dragon tattoo that continues across his back ripples when he does so. "You can't even threaten to fire me, I'm leaving anyway." You smirk as he sits upright finally at that, pulls the covers over his chest like a shield.

"What? Where are you going?" His voice is still half bleary with sleep, but the authority of the head of the Shimada clan is in there somewhere, in the steel of his voice, the shadows under his eyes. "You know what I said; you've seen and heard too much since you started your work here." You shrug at him, huffily crossing your arms and leaning against the door frame. "I mean it."

"So did Genji."

Hanzo rears backward in shock, hand clutched to his chest as though clutching at pearls; the mental image almost makes you giggle.

" _What?_ "

You lock eyes with him, unafraid. "Genji saw and heard too much too. Didn't he?" The question is less a question and more of a statement, and Hanzo at least has the decency to drop his gaze, focusing on his lap. His voice is quieter when he speaks again.

"Just- just get out while I get dressed. You should be headed into town, anyway."

You do as bid, stalking out of his room to head to the kitchens where your shopping list awaited; just because you were leaving it didn't mean you got out of your regular chores after all. You pull out your phone on the way there, fully intending on having another watch of some of the Overwatch training videos that you'd been linked to - they looked grueling, but at least you'd had a little unfair advantage on the hand-to-hand combat bit - but you found yourself scrolling through your texts instead, to one from a scant three weeks ago.

' _Sweet dreams, koneko._ ' 

You'd lost count of how many times you'd scanned over that same text now, lying in bed before you fell asleep with your fingers wrapped around a single sparrowhawk feather, in quiet moments between chores in the kitchens, every time you passed the armory where you'd seen Hanzo carrying the sword that undoubtedly killed Genji, your Genji, always grinning with that shiny green hair and the warm scent of him left behind and fading still-

You shake your head, slowly; left, right, left, centre. Too many thoughts, racing too fast. You grab your list with barely a glance at it and throw on a coat from the pegs outside the back door - they have a little silhouette of the castle embroidered over your heart - and head off, head still mostly in a daze.

***

"I still do not see how this place is relevant to my family's business."

_New voice still terrifies me, fans whir in my throat and my chest. Hanamura outside the window of this bar, keeping watch while the other Blackwatch members drink and tilt their chairs back. Being back here is almost as terrifying as leaving in the first place had been; hoodie pulled up even though the green has all been washed out, full armor on under full coverage clothes. I could walk up to the castle and kill Hanzo from he-_

"Do you have any idea how many of the guys you identified in our files have just waltzed in here and waltzed back out? This seems to be something of a hub." There's a pause. "You're not going up to the castle, Shimada."

_Reyes does that, that mind reading schtick. McCree is off on the other side of the bar attempting and failing to wheedle any information out of the bartender. I've never been in this place before; I'm aching all over. Fresh air, need to breathe, get this faceplate off for just five goddamn min-_

"Hey, Genji, I'm steppin' out for a smoke. You comin'?"

_McCree claps me on the shoulder, the real one; he's overly cautious around the robotic parts, almost insultingly so, I won't break if he breathes wrong near me. I nod anyway, stiffly, and follow him and his endlessly jiggling spurs down onto the street. He rolls a cigarette as he walks, a skill he says he picked up in the desert, claims he can roll a decent smoke on the back of a speeding motorcycle. He offers me the smoke and I shake my head, hold up a dismissive hand. He shrugs, a 'suit yourself' gesture, and sticks it behind his ear while he fishes for a lighter. I tilt my head up, eyes closed behind the faceplate as the cold air whooshes in through ventilation ports, finally feeling something on this new scarred face in the longest time a-_

_Wham!_

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

_I know that voice._

"Uh, excuse me? Sir?"

_Don't fucking open your eyes Genji, what if it's not..._

"Sorry, uh, your omnic friend here is kinda... Stuck? I just bumped him a little, I'm sorry."

_McCree is brushing off her apology now, and I crack my eyes just a little and, gods, I knew it was her, but she's blinding to these eyes, stunning like the sun, fresh and good, too good, arms overflowing with groceries and the insignia of what was once my home embroidered across her breast, over her heart. I bite my tongue, the copper tang of blood dulled somewhat but there, enough to remind me that I am human, that I am disguised, that I have a job to do here. There's so much I want to ask her -_

"Aw, nah he's okay, it's this cold weather, affects his old man robot joints y'know..."

_Are they treating you well? Have they hurt you?_

"Oh! Well, I hope he's okay, I've really got to get this stuff back up to the cas-"

"The castle, huh? The Shimada place?"

_What's gonna happen to you now?_

"- much quieter ever since Hanzo took over. But I should really be going, it was nice meeting you, sorry about your friend."

"You too, miss."

_Do you miss me?_

Whispered, clandestine conversation as she walks away. "You okay Genji, you look like you've seen a ghost."

_No. But she has._

"I'm fine, Jesse. I don't think there's anything else we'll get out of this trip. Get Reyes."

***

"Sorry, uh, your omnic friend here is kinda... Stuck? I just bumped him a little, I'm sorry." 

Your apology is stammered and hurried after you collide with the metal man, who stays stock still. It's chilling, almost, the way you cannot tell where he's looking in that blank metal face. You turn your attentions to the guy with him, still more focused on getting all these groceries back to the castle without dropping it all across the paving. The brunette, the human, peers at you intently from beneath the shade of his ridiculous cowboy hat, obscuring his face. He asks you questions about the castle, you give half answers and hurry off.

All the way back up the hill to the castle gates you feel terrible about bumping into that omnic, even if he was the one just standing in the middle of a packed sidewalk with his buddy. 

You arrive back at the kitchens sweating and breathless, chucking all your stuff onto the counter with as much grace as you can muster before the cooks descend on it voraciously, checking the eggs for cracks and berating your choice in dish soap, still thinking back to that odd encounter; for one thing, who wears a cowboy hat like that in public? And for another, why was he so interested in the castle? You were suddenly glad that you'd kept your mouth relatively shut. You're still shaking your head about it when you go to check the rota and realise that the majority of your afternoon has been crossed out and had the word 'gym' scribbled in. You turn to the person nearest to you, mouth open to ask about it, but they cut you off before you can even start, not looking up from the dough that they're kneading.

"Don't ask. Hanzo came down and scratched that in himself," they say, leaving you with more questions than you started with. "Seemed half crazy about it. Says you're meant to be in the gym, in case you can't read that awful writing..." They break off into muttering and kneading with what looks like renewed annoyance as you shift your bag on your shoulder and stare at the chickenscratch on the rota.

You really do not want to go back to that gym.

The last time you'd been there it had ended in a sparring session with Genji that ended the next morning when you woke up naked in bed with Genji freakin Shimada. 

A dead man.

And now his own brother was dragging you back there; somehow you knew this was no accident. 

Steeling your heart, setting your jaw, and throwing one last glower at your schedule, you headed off to see what he wanted.

***

"Two things," Hanzo says, facing away from you. He's in workout clothes, his hair tied up, and you can tell that he's taping up his hands from the way his arms are working. "One, you're leaving tomorrow. I know it's meant to be a week from now, but I've cleared your schedule, hired a replacement, and moved your plane tickets." As you're recovering from _that_ statement he turns around and throws you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Also, I believe we both need some frustrations taken out."

You shake your head, stepping into the gym to face him with your hands up, not even stopping to take your shoes off. "Okay, what the fuck do you mean by that? I'm leaving tomorrow? Frustrations? You're gonna have to be more specific." You're face to face with him now and he's smirking infuriatingly, which just pisses you off more. You pause and tilt your head, a faint flicker of a smile dancing at the corner of your lips. "How many people did you practice that little speech on before you realised they weren't me?"

Hanzo barks a laugh and backs off a little, relaxing, which calms you down slightly. "A few, if I have to be honest." He is awkward, for once, not the stone-faced head of an international criminal empire based in a literal castle. "We've both been somewhat, ah, tense? Since my brother-"

"Was murdered," you interrupt. "Since you murdered him." You feel like this reaction was appropriate; after all, what else could he do in one night? Hanzo is taken aback, briefly, but then he nods and a muscle jumps in his jaw, which is clenched. His eyes are stone cold.

"I did my duty," he says, simply. "To my family. To my business. Now I have to do it to you." He tosses you something and you catch it instinctively; sports tape, the same stuff he was wrapping around his hands. "I'll let you get one free shot in, but this is no sparring match. We fight, we get over this, you forget Shimada castle and everything that happened in it."

You raise an eyebrow as you start wrapping your hands. "Everything?"

Hanzo gives you a half-smile as he starts stretching out. "Everything you can."

You prepare yourself, kicking off your shoes and tying up your hair as quickly as you can. Hanzo stands on the springy fighting mat, eyes closed and gives you a barely perceptible nod. 

With a cry you launch yourself towards him, putting the full weight of yourself behind your fist, exactly the way Genji taught you not to. _It leaves you open for retaliation_ , he'd told you, tickling you under the ribs as he had, leaving you giggling - the slam to your sternum that Hanzo does in response is the furthest thing you can imagine from a tickle, and you are sprawling backwards, legs akimbo as you struggle to balance. This was no sparring match, he was right, this was a brawl. You go to tackle him, aiming for his waist and he stands stock still, letting you wear yourself out before he shoves you halfway across the mat. You circle each other like jungle cats, eyes looking for weak spots, for openings.

"Why do this, Hanzo?"

He shrugs again, a gesture you were beginning to grow tired of. "I moved your leaving forward to get rid of you faster, you realise? You want out, and I gave yo a way, wherever it is that you're going now. Before you left, you deserved a chance to be angry at me. You hate me." It is not a question. "I don't blame you. I would hate me too, if I stood where you do." He chuckles, a low and bitter sound, dark and humorless. "In fact, maybe I do hate myself." You snort derisively.

"It's a little late to make me pity you." You feint in close to his face and take the opportunity to slam your knee brutally into his stomach, making him cough and double over. He jumps back, taking a swing at your head which you barely dodge. 

"I don't want your pity," he all but spits, eyes full of fire and staring you down. "I want you to fight me properly, dammit."

You drop out of your fighting stance and cross your arms. "Look, what is this really about? You know full well you're gonna kick my ass." The bruise you left with that punch to his jaw is already starting to darken. You walk off the soft and springy floor and take a seat on the edge of it, facing away from him. "Now, you can come down here and talk to me, or you can knock out someone who isn't fighting back." You give him a bitter little smile. "Not that it'll stop you." You can practically feel the frustrated sigh that Hanzo seemingly dredges up from the very bottoms of his lungs as he throws himself into a kneeling position at the edge of the mat, just in your peripheral vision.

"I don't know if I can do this," he says, through gritted teeth as though it pains him to speak to you like this. "I don't know if I can carry on my father's work, his legacy. I did my duty, but now I carry the burden of my honour being destroyed. I killed my brother-" He pauses, sucks air through his nose with a loud whistle. "And I don't know what for."

You turn, slowly, to face him, just swiveling your head.

"Hey," you say, after you regard him for a while. "Neither does anyone else."

***

You crawl into bed somewhat battered and bruised, feeling the bruises mainly on the inside; Hanzo had insisted you go back to fighting not long after your heart-to-heart, but the fact that even he didn't even really know why he'd killed Genji weighed heavily on you most of all. The covers are soft and warm around you and you barely care that you've left the light on, the aches and tiredness washing over you. 

Your hand reaches out almost on instinct and closes around the feather at your bedside. Idly, as you drift off, you wonder whether you'd be allowed personal items like this at the base in Gibraltar. Even that thought isn't enough to rouse you now, and your eyes flicker shut for the last time in your bed at Shimada Castle.

***

_Meanwhile, not too far away._

_I wonder if they'll even notice I've left; I sneaked out as quietly as I could, even with all the metal parts. I never thought I'd see the castle like this again, from the rooftops of Hanamura. I can see everything from up here; the trees, almost bare now, the kitchens, the tower, the dorms._

The cigarette catches light, ember bobbing in the dark.

_Pilfered from McCree. I don't even smoke, but it seemed appropriate. Dr. Ziegler will be furious with me for it, but it helps, a hit of something, to ground me. Stop me jumping from rooftop to rooftop and climbing the dormitory walls. I saw her, she bumped into me, didn't even recognise me and how could she under all this, after all? Where's she been? What has she been up to all night?_

The light in her bedroom stays on, even though her shadow hasn't passed the shade in a while. Cigarette burns down between metal fingers, unsmoked.

_This is unhealthy. All of this. I'm thankful we leave tomorrow, that Reyes realised there was nothing more for us here._

Shade in the window ripples in the slight wind.

_Nothing more for Blackwatch, anyway. Plenty more for me. Ifs, and buts, and maybes. Unfinished conversations. Unasked questions._

The cigarette is snuffed out on the rooftop.

_Enough. Get back to the field base, act like I never left, that is the only plan now. I can spare one glance back._

Metal head swivels in the dark, casts a glance towards the dormitories.

_Sweet dreams, koneko. I-_


	14. Promachos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //sorry I missed a week! I had to move halfway across the country, start my masters degree, celebrate some birthdays, and organise for my bachelors degree graduation ceremony, which is next week. it's.... it's been a trip.

You stretch as hard as you can as you get to your feet awkwardly, the narrow plane aisle constricting your movements as you scramble for your carry-on, the only luggage you'd been able to bring. Checking your ticket you see that there's yet another two-hour layover here at Charles de Gaulle; the first had been in Amsterdam after the 11-hour flight from Hanamura. You'd made your own way to the airport there with nobody offering to see you off, and you were fine with that. You shuffle out of the plane behind some other passengers, barely making note of anything around you as you breathe fresh air for what seems to be the first time all day, the recycled smell of the air on the plane cloying and acrid. Hefting your bag further up your shoulder, you cross the tarmac to the terminal.

The man that checks your boarding pass is wearing white gloves, and he speaks with such heavily-accented English that you wonder if he might be putting it on as an affectation. "Ah, headed south I see, to Malaga!" You nod politely, flashing your passport. "You know, we have had many other similarly dressed passengers these last few days-" He eyes the Overwatch logo printed on your shoulder and you shift the strap of your bag to cover it. "Well... Good luck." You nod again, lips stuck together from being dehydrated on the plane for so long, and shuffle off in search of a drink. You weren't sure entirely why you felt like hiding; it wasn't like Overwatch was a secret, or a secret that there were Watchpoints scattered across the globe. Outside the windows a brightly-lit winged statue, some angel or goddess, grabs your attention and you cast your mind back to Angela Ziegler and her Valkyrie, reminding you that your intentions weren't entirely altruistic. You shake your head, dispelling that image of the glowing angel descending over Shimada Castle for the millionth time since you'd remembered it. The imperceptibly small needle wound on your wrist itches again as if reminding you - yeah, you'd need to talk to Kenshin when you got there.

For now, this coffee shop would be a good place to camp out while you waited for your next plane. Caffeine is the only thing on your mind as you order, but a posh British voice interrupts your order.

"I'll get hers, add a latte to that order. Two of those scones too." There's a beep as the stranger taps his smartwatch on the card machine and you look up with absolutely zero recognition. He smiles down at you, all stretched lips and square jawline as he hands you the scone. "I'm Joe. Thought it was the least I could do for a fellow recruit." Your gaze flicks down to his chest where, sure enough, the same slightly shiny black Overwatch logo is located right at the seam that runs across his shoulder. 

"Thanks," you say, voice sounding dead even to you as you take the crumbly snack. "For the drink. I'm just gonna-" You motion to leave and he grabs your shoulder, making you bristle with indignation.

"Nonsense," he says brashly, seeming not to notice the almost violent way you wrench your shoulder out of his grasp. "We should stick together, we're headed to the same place anyway. What's your name anyway?" With some annoyance, you tell him as he steers you to his table, already stacked with a number of dirty cups; he's already been here hours apparently. Either that or there's a huge number of uncomfortable Overwatch recruits milling about Charles de Gaulle airport with scones in their hand; the mental image makes you laugh and Joe smiles beatifically across at you, thinking your grin is meant for him. You settle your face back into a neutral almost-scowl.

"It's what, like an hour and a half to go? Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

He seems genuinely interested, but you can't help but be somewhat put off by his forward manner. With a grimace you answer, avoiding his eyes.

"I would love to, but I kinda get the impression that you'd rather talk about yourself."

There is a beat of silence before he laughs.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

As he launches into a tirade about his entire life up to this exact point, you merely struggle to stay awake and try and keep your mind elsewhere, like how close you are to finding out what really happened that night, what Overwatch were doing in Hanamura, and what they had to do with the death of Genji Shimada.

Only a few hours stood between you and everything you'd been wondering about, and somehow you were spending it with a complete stranger.

_Great._

***

You slept for most of the flight from Paris to Malaga, short as it was, but you'd spotted at least twenty people of various ages in the black recruit uniforms like yours before you nodded off. It was truly the middle of the night as you all filed from the plane, towards the enticingly bright lights of the terminal, but the group of you is stopped by an overly smiley air hostess. She adjusts her brightly coloured neckerchief awkwardly, clears her throat.

"Uh, not you guys, you're not going inside." She points over to a squat, unassuming building that looked like a small hangar. "You're being transported from there. Have a safe trip!" She ends the exchange with an even wider smile and stalks off towards the terminal, high heels clicking loudly on the asphalt. Your group of recruits shares a tense look, a moment of uncertainty, before the lot of you set off heavily for the hangar, days of long travel and little sleep weighing heavily on your shoulders and dragging down your limbs.

The heavy metal door opens easily and as it does banks of blindingly bright lights clatter to life overhead, tremulously casting their white shine down on the room. The whole place is white and shiny, in fact, the stark cleanliness of a surgical theatre or hospital room; you shuffle your feet awkwardly, afraid of scuffing the blankness with your new black combat boots. The only colour in the room comes from the bright blue jacket of an Overwatch agent stood across from you, deep in conversation with another, this one in black. The agent in blue, you recognise - the tattoo around her eye was distinctive after all. Captain Ana Amari, you remembered her name from Kenshin saying it. She's tall, taller than she'd looked on TV, and her eyes are alight and always moving. At least she'd had a decent night's sleep recently.

"Ah, you're early," she says, turning to face the group of recruits fully before speaking over her shoulder to the agent in black, who knuckles his forehead before marching off. 

"I'm glad you all made it in one piece. Flying coach can be a drag once you've experienced Overwatch transport." She straightens up, tucking the clipboard she was reading from under her arm. "For those of you who don't know, I am Captain Amari. Welcome to Malaga and, let me be the first to say, welcome to Overwatch." She cracks what you're sure is a rare smile and you instantly feel better, despite the roiling pit of worry in your stomach. Captain Amari clears her throat and continues. "My associate is just making sure our transport is ready to roll and, oh-" She puts a hand to her ear, listening to some comms device that you can't see, and then smiles again, somewhat chagrined this time. "Seems I spoke too soon. Recruits, if you'd like to step this way a little-" She motions towards herself and you all hurry to obey, seemingly trying to impress. As you move the wall that had been next to you starts to roll up like a scroll, letting in the night air and the stars from outside. It takes your breath away, first from the sudden chill and then from what waits behind the wall as it rolls to a halt.

A gleaming silver train, shaped like a bullet and sleeker than any vehicle sits beyond the wall, the black-garbed agent from earlier stood by one of the open doors. The orange and white Overwatch symbol is emblazoned on the side, burning brighter than the fluorescing lights over your head, and you hear excited chatter from the recruits around you, before they are quickly shushed by Captain Amari. She hustles you onto the train and into seats that fasten with harnesses like a rollercoaster. Fitting, really, as you feel like you've been riding one all day. The interior lights up, softer than the lighting in the hangar, and screens blink suddenly to life, bearing an odd triangular symbol.

"Good evening, Captain Amari. I see these are the new recruits?"

A disembodied voice; calm, female, slightly accented. The recruits look up, down, and all over the place looking for the new arrival, but Amari points to one of the screens.

"Good evening, yes this is the fresh meat. Everyone, this is Athena. She's our AI, she's immensely powerful, and she already knows every single thing about you." Here, Ana chuckles darkly. "And now you've seen her, you already know too much. Last chance to bow out was before you got on those planes." 

The world lurches as the train begins to move, so smoothly that you don't realise at first, but you are soon pressed against the side of your harness as it picks up speed. Athena announces something about 'going dark' and the windows immediately go black, cutting off the interior from view despite the darkness outside and the huge speed you were going at. Captain Amari and the other recruit are moving up and down the carriage like they do this everyday though, barely wobbling as they move, handing out what look like huge pills.

"What's this?" asks a posh voice next to you, and you notice that you're next to Joe for the rest of the journey. Awesome. Captain Amari answers him as she hands you a bottle of label-less water to take your pill. You squint at it suspiciously; it looks like there's a little blinking light inside it.

"It's your tracker. You take the tablet, it dissolves, and the tracker attaches to the lining of your stomach. Yes, it is profoundly uncomfortable at first. It's only for basic training." Ana shrugs. "We all had to do it. Athena uses them to keep an eye on your vitals, your location, that sort of thing." Athena pipes up to give a deeper, lengthier explanation, but you're busy watching that little light blink blink blink inside the capsule and completely miss her lecture.

Giving your superior one last skeptical look as she turns away, you pop the pill into your mouth and quickly wash it down. _Ugh, it tastes bitter, like burned coffee_. You cough.

"Uh, Captain Amari?" you pipe up, unsure about how best to address her. "How long until we reach the Watchpoint?" Ana doesn't answer right away, tapping away at a small console embedded in the armour over her forearm. 

"Well, we've been travelling for five minutes or so now, and it's an 80 mile journey."

"Mmhmm?"

Ana taps on one of the Athena screens now, bringing up a map of southern Spain. "Give it another 15 minutes."

Your mouth drops open before you can stop it, but Ana laughs goodnaturedly.

"I know, the wonders of modern technology. Hold on tight, recruit."

***

Ana was wrong; it took another 10 minutes before Athena chirrupped awake to speak to the assembled passengers.

"Now arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar."

The air pressure in the train released with a long, sinuous hiss as the vents clacked open, taking your rollercoaster harness with them so you could stand. You were at the windows like a little kid as they resumed their transparency, gazing out at huge banks of glass elevators, twisted white balconies, lights blinking and flashing in every conceivable colour from a thousand gleaming surfaces. At the centre of it all, a gently revolving sculpture of that ubiquitious logo, twirling endlessly on a plinth in a fountain. Despite it being in the early hours of the morning people still milled about all over the place and the train halted in front of an assembled group that immediately drew the attention of every recruit; a blonde lady in Overwatch blue, a slightly familiar scarred face bearing a goatee, and what looked like... a gorilla in a spacesuit?

The doors open with a rattle and you all spill out onto the platform, a mass of bodies all in black, a shadow given flesh. Amari strides over to the group awaiting you with open arms and a wide smile.

"What, no Morrison?"

"No," says the blonde, and her accent is like a punch to the gut when you realise that _that_ is Angela Ziegler. The last time you'd seen her she'd just jumped out of an airship over Shimada Castle while you fought off the effects of a tranquiliser. How time flies. "He's still on the telephone to Parliament about the, ahem, situation in London." Amari shakes her head, claps the gorilla on the shoulder. Oh god, it's talking, he's talking. To you. Well, to all the recruits. Why is the gorilla talking. You were regretting taking that pill.

"- we're your first point of call during basic training, as if you get through that-" He says, and you spot that his name is Winston from the helpful badge on his suit. "I mean, not to say that, uh, you _won't_ make it through basic training, but there is a distinct possibility that, uh-"

"That you could die," the man finishes, with a somehow friendly sneer. "Not too be too blunt about it, but I'd hate to bullshit you." He shrugs almost nonchalantly, and you feel both comforted and affronted by his honestly, which you're sure is the idea. Ziegler clicks her tongue at his profanity and turns to tap something into one of the ubiquitous Athena screens. The AI herself speaks up next.

"Hello, and welcome to Overwatch basic training. By now you should all have taken your tracker-" She pauses here as though expecting an answer, and a few nervous recruits do actually nod, which pulls twin smirks from Amari and the guy with the goatee. "This tracker serves to monitor your vital signs and your location. If you enter a restricted area you will hear this sound-" A piercing, high-pitched squeal. "Which will give you exactly 60 seconds to leave the area, or the tracker will explode. Whichever comes first." Oh good, even the AI is nonchalant about the possibility of your death. A recruit just in front of you raises her hand.

"Uh, I have a quest-" 

"Save all questions for the end of the presentation," Ziegler answers smoothly, inspecting her nails. 

Athena continues as though the interruption hasn't happened. "After basic training you will be assigned to one of four departments within Overwatch; infantry, under Strike-Commander Jack Morrison-" Amari raises her hand in his stead, with a stony face. "Medical, under Doctor Angela Ziegler-" Angela does the same, smiling. "Science and R&D under Winston, our resident scientist-" The gorilla this time, which makes you shake your head in disbelief. "Or, finally, the covert operations unit under commander Reyes." The goatee'd man raised his hand half-assedly and smirked. You couldn't help but wonder what the covert operations unit was and, more importantly, what they were doing in Hanamura the night Genji died. Questions for another time, apparently, as the heads of Overwatch were walking off, leaving you in the apparently capable hands of some other agents, who had been instructed to show you to the barracks.

"Mess hall up ahead to your right," one barked as you were led through corridor after corridor after antechamber, "This elevator takes you up to the commander's offices - Amari, Reyes, Morrison - and the med bay is off that way." A wide door that hissed upwards led you outside into some well kept gardens, featuring a smaller version of that famous statue of Commander Morrison. "The gym and sparring hall is that huge blue building there, agent barracks are in the main building, they're just temporary lodgings for when they're here, really. And finally recruit barracks are this way-"

***

_Meanwhile several floors up..._

"Listen, Genji, I had nothing to do with this, I swear, just put me down and we can talk..."

_Kenshin kicks out at me as I hold him by his throat up against the wall, metal feet collide with my metal shins. Still human, still human._

"Then why is she _here_ , Kenshin? You cannot fool me, the whole fucking building is made of glass. I know I saw her."

_Metal vocal chords whir and spit in my throat; too much hard work to keep my voice this quiet, don't wanna bring Reyes out of his office to find me pinning one of his agents. Not like it would do him any harm, omnics don't need to breathe after all, but it makes me feel better to tighten my human hand around his cold metal throat nonetheless. I raise the other one, flex the wrist so shurikens spin in between my new fingers._

"Woah, Genji, we're friends, remember? I swear, she must have just wanted to join Overwatch, or-"

"Agent," a new voice says, nary a hint of it's Indiana roots left in it. "Shimada. Put him down, son."

_I turn, eyes flaring red as the circuits behind them kick into high gear, and glare at Commander Morrison. I drop Kenshin anyway, who immediately salutes the senior agent. Reluctantly, I do the same. Now, more than ever, I need to stick around._

"Do I want to ask what this was about?"

Kenshin glances over at the Commander warily. "Just a misunderstanding, sir."

_Commander Morrison's blue eyes flick across to me, and I stiffen. Why would Kenshin lie for me? Best not wait too long. Morrison's eyes narrow, and I know he's liable to start yelling any second. I know those bags under his eyes can't mean anything good._

"A misunderstanding, Strike-Commander."

_Just then the door down the hall, the one that lead's to Gabriel's office flies open with the familiar decompression hiss. He leans out, without his beanie on for once, hoodie and jeans a stark contrast to the rest of us in blues. He beckons me with a waved hand._

"At ease, both of you. Shimada, Kenshin; get in here. Morrison, I'd thank you to stop intimidating _my_ agents-"

"Our agents, Commander Reyes. They belong to Overwatch."

"They _belong_ wherever the hell it is I say they belong. Go polish your statue or something. Blackwatch, with me."

***

The barracks are spartan without being uncomfortable; windowless but airy thanks to the miles and miles of ventilation pipe all over the ceiling, and lined end to end with narrow beds. The showers at one end were just shower-heads sticking out of the wall, no privacy. You stow your belongings under the bed with your surname zip-tied to the headboard, feeling a shiver of deja vu run through you as you recall doing the exact same thing on your first day at Shimada Castle; only this time there was no way to call your mother, and no Poppy knocking at the door to give you a tour and share a soda. Hell, what you wouldn't give right now for someone to tell you there had been a mistake and you're needed to polish the silverware back in Hanamura. 

The senior agents with, identifiable by the blue stripes on their black uniforms, walked up and down the rows of beds making sure everyone was tidying away their stuff and in the right place. You couldn't help but eye the holsters at their hips and chests with some caution. You'd never held a gun, much less fired one, and it dawned on you that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. _Ah well, too late to back out now_.

"All right," calls one of the agents, side-by-side with the other by the doors. "Now you're all settled in let's go over the ground rules - lights out is 11pm every night, you're expected in the yard outside at 5am each morning unless told otherwise, and there'll be weekly bunk inspections for the duration of basic training. Am I making myself clear?" The mumbled groan of assent from the recruits makes the agent fight back a smile; he knew you were all tired, but it was already 3am and nobody was happy about starting basic training on an hour of sleep. "Okay. Get some rest. Oh," Here, the smirk that he was fighting back overtook his face just before his companion threw the switch and plunged the room into darkness. "Basic training has technically started right now. Congratulations, recruits." 

The door slams and hisses as the two seniors leave, and the emergency exit signs flick on, bathing the room in pale green light. It's almost reminiscent of Genji's dragon, and it instantly calms you as you slide between the stiff, grey sheets of your new bed. Joe, the overly chatty recruit from earlier, is already snoring away in the bunk next to you, saving you from any more stilted, awkward conversation. 

You are asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, which is weird for you in a new place, but you suppose the travel has worn you out. 

You are thankfully, blessedly, dreamless, for the first time in a while.

***

"Shimada, stop staring at the bunks."

_He's not wrong. I've been craning my neck to see across to the recruit building for an hour now, hoping for some glimpse of her, to make sure she is okay. It's disgusting, I feel like a stalker. But then again, she was the one who followed me here, whether she knows it... Or not. Likely not. How could she even know that I'm alive? Reyes clasps my shoulder, the metal one._

"Kenshin told me about the girl. She can't know you're alive at least... Not yet. I can't say I know how that feels but-" 

_I raise an eyebrow; he's stopped in the middle of a sentence, and all the blood has drained from his face. This is unlike Commander Reyes; he loves the sound of his own voice. Fuck it, tell him so._

"Cat got your tongue? Thought you loved the sou-"

"Shut up a second. You're going back to your room."

_The hand on my shoulder is pulled away as one of the vents on the arm opens and spews out steam. I whip around, eyeing my commander warily. The fuck does he think I am, a child?_

"You cannot _order_ me to go to bed, as though I am some petula-"

"Nope, you're going. I have to get you out of here before."

A distant _WHOOSH_.

"Before that happens."

_I whip back around, dangerously close to knocking Reyes over, and am immediately fixated on the growing point of light in the distance, by the recruit barracks. No wait, inside the recruit barracks. What the fu-_

"I forgot you never went through basic, it's fine, usually nobody gets hurt so just stay calm and go back to your quarters. It's a regular part of basic, okay? That's an order, agent."

"It's on _fire_."

***

You awaken suddenly, and have to take a moment to get your bearings and figure out what roused you. You're in a strange bed. You're jet-lagged beyond belief. These aren't your pyjamas. Right. Overwatch. Flew all the way across the world to find out what happened to your boss who you were also sleeping with and might have been falling for. 

Surely that wasn't enough to wake you, but there was somethi-

The acrid smell of smoke in your nostrils sends you flying out of bed, bolt upright. Other recruits are waking, bleary-eyed and confused, to see the fire that has begun to roar all the way up the back wall. Some are filling buckets with water from the showers, ready to throw, but something in the smell of the smoke, in the thin, black and iridescent fluid that coated the floor near the blaze, made you stop. You flicked your eyes across the whole scene trying to take it in, and flashed back to your training about grease fires in the Shimada Castle kitchens.

_"Now, don't ever throw water on them, cause it'll create a nasty fireball, and also get you fired. If you don't die._ Oh, how you'd laughed.

That was oil, on the floor, black and sticky and viscous, and the recruits were running at it now. You felt like you were trying to wade through treacle to run and stop them.

"Hey, wait, don't-!"

The water sailed through the air, glinting like a cascade of diamonds and then-

_WHOOMPH._


	15. Drop and Give Me 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I'm sorry there's gonna be a lot of set-up for a while, what with Reader joining Overwatch and everything slowly falling into place. I hope you'll stick with me, I will try and make it worth it! This chapter features a cameo by a character named Maxima Wilson who is the OC of one of my best friends, so I hope y'all don't mind. Also this chapter is super late because I had a crazy week; had my birthday, and my graduation ceremony, and got engaged! Forgive me?

The next thing you know, you're crumpled against the back wall of the barracks. Your head rings from the impact and you try to rise to your feet, instead you wobble unsteadily and collapse back to your knees. 

The fire has consumed two rows of beds now, and everyone is panicking beyond comprehension; even the heavily sleeping Joe in the bunk next to yours was now banging on the doors with tears streaming down his face. There's a loud clacking noise and you duck under cover of your forearm as the bright lights overhead burst to stunning life and then the doors to the outside burst open. You hear Joe cry out as he falls on his face. Senior agents swarm into the room wielding extinguishers and fight back the fire. Through the smoke you spot Amari of all people, helping some other recruits to their feet. The doctor, Ziegler, is here too, with a team of other people in scrubs and lab coats. A hand is thrust into your face and you take it gratefully, flinching from the cold of the metal when you grasp a prosthetic of some kind. You let the stranger haul you upright. He's an omnic of some kind, you assume, all metal, but wearing Overwatch-blue sweatpants and a black hoodie regardless. You're sure that hoodie isn't uniform regulation. There's a streak of red light across his face which you assume must be his eyes, and it's there that you fix your gaze.

"Are you alright?"

His voice is heavily accented and odd sounding in the mechanical way that all omnics are. You're reminded of Kenshin. All you can do in response is nod as the omnic leans down to wrap an arm around your waist in support. You take a few unsteady steps while leaning against him, and the whir and vibration of the fans against your side is oddly soothing. Just as you get comfortable with the situation Commander Reyes looms at you out of the smoke and takes you from the omnic in one swift movement, shocking you into silence from the polite greeting you'd been about to give him.

"Get back _upstairs_ , agent," Reyes hisses at your savior, who jerks forward as though to grab your arm. You shrink away from the metal hand, wanting more than anything to just get outside in the fresh air. "I told you not to fu- That's an order." Reyes catches himself before cursing and getting mad. You feel the gaze of the omnic on your face before he turns and springs away surprisingly quickly. Reyes says nothing to you, stopping to haul another agent to their feet as he drags you outside.

The cold air hits your skin through your thin pyjamas and you gasp, waving Reyes off as he looks at you, concerned, when he sets you down on the cold, hard earth. You spot the omnic from just now walking away from the barracks at a swift pace still and your head swims watching him. You drop your gaze, focusing on a rock by your feet. The fire is dying now, the agents re-emerging from the smoking building. Amari starts taking a roll call - six or seven people do not answer. Agents go back into the smouldering building, with flashlights despite the rising sun. Amari raises her voice to address you all.

"You, you, you, and you," she yells as she points at the owners of these pronouns one by one. "Well done on taking the initiative to get the water. Unfortunately for you, that was also a huge mistake." The accusing finger swings in your direction now. "You. Well done on noticing that it was an oil fire, but too little too late I'm afraid. Everyone though, forgot the most important thing." The agents reemerge from the building and give Amari a quick shake of their heads, one by one. "Stay calm. That's why we surprise you with this fire exercise, dammit! To see how you act under duress. You have to have a cool head out there." She shakes back her sleeve and checks the time on a wristwatch that you're sure doubles as any number of lethal weapons. "It's almost 5am; those of you that aren't dead, go get changed, report to Ziegler for smoke inhalation, then to the yard. Those of you whose clothes burned up, my office. On the double, recruits. And count yourself lucky; we used to electrify the bunks instead of using fire."

Amari turns to talk to the agents and you rise to your feet, shuffling awkwardly on the freezing ground. You look to your left, towards the main building, and you swear you see a flash of red eyes and something green. Squeezing your eyes shut til they hurt, you shake your head to clear it.

You don't look back again.

***

"Come now, you can do better than that."

The senior agent has his boot planted firmly in the center of your back as he taunts you, making your push-ups ten times harder. This was at least the fifth lot of them you'd done today, dropping to the grass and shoving your body up and down despite the protests from your screaming muscles. You'd been put on a sort of circuit which dipped in and out of the gym; lifting weights, running on a treadmill, push-ups, crunches, burpees, even a round in the sparring ring. You were pleased to say you'd come out on top in your turn, the faintest echoes of your lessons with Genji being yanked cruelly to the forefront of your mind. 

Every time you'd seen Angela you'd meant to ask, about Genji and about Hanamura and anything else you could think that might help, but you were just a number on a sheet to her. It had been three days since the fire and you'd seen her multiple times on every single one of them, but she seemed to stare straight through you. Just another black-garbed recruit who might not survive the training, why get attached? You'd lost those six recruits in the fire after all. The next day three more had quit, and then two more the day after that. You wondered, idly, what had happened to them before the agent on top of you pushed their boot in harder and sent you sprawling. He chuckles and pulls his foot away, extending a hand to help you up. You mind flits back to the omnic that did the same in the fire; something about that voice haunted you, especially at night, trying to sleep in the barracks that still reeked of smoke. 

"Hey, look over there," the agent helping you says, jutting his chin in some direction behind you. "Blackwatch are down here. Must be watching the new recruits."

You turn and follow his gaze, eyes alighting on the group. Reyes was there, obviously, taking notes on a holo-clipboard at a shockingly fast pace. At his elbow, a familiar face in Kenshin, who was looking stubbornly off to your left as though he didn't notice you. The cowboy was behind them, joking with a girl with an undercut. The girl flicked teasingly at the spur on the cowboy's six-shooter, which made her laugh and him pout. At the back - the omnic from the other night? It must be, same hoodie, same flash of red, same cold metal arms. One hand is covered by a glove, you notice with some confusion.

"Who even _are_ they?" 

The question leaves you before you can stop it, and your head whips around to see your instructor smiling as he ties his shoelace. 

"I-I'm sorry, I know we're not supposed to ask abou-"

"Hey, it's fine, it's a common reaction," he says, straightening up. "Blackwatch are covert ops, that part you know already. No one's really sure what they actually do. Even Reyes, apparently," You laugh at that, mostly just to get him to keep talking. "Well, the omnic is Kenshin, he's as honest as they come, for a spy I guess-" _Oh, if only you knew_ you think. "The one in the cowboy hat is Jesse McCree, they didn't pick him up that long ago, I think he's like 18 or something. Girl with the hair, or without the hair, I guess? Anyway her, that's Maxima Wilson. Canadian and sorta mean, but I think she means well?" The agent takes a moment to look confused before continuing. "Oh man, the new guy at the back, I think they said his name was Sh-"

The agent is cut off by a gruff voice calling both of your surnames, and you both spring into a salute at the sight of Strike-Commander Morrison in the doorway of the gym. "Is there any reason that you're both gabbing out here, recruit, agent?"

"No, sir."

"And what do you think you should be doing instead?"

You pause, not sure if that was a rhetorical question. "Any... Anything else, sir?"

There's a laugh from behind you, a short little cackle that can only be Commander Reyes. You swear the corner of Jack's mouth twitches upwards just a little.

"Correct, recruit. Go do anything else, so long as it's on this exercise circuit. At ease."

Face flushing as red as the omnic eyes you can feel boring into your back, you bid the agent farewell, not realising until you're halfway across the yard that he never finished that name. _Dammit._ Ah well, it can't have been that important, you suppose.

***

"And this is the main med-bay, which is where you will be working if you're picked for medical at the end of training-"

The rest of your day had been given over to Angela Ziegler, or 'Mercy' as the rest of the agents called her. The higher-ups insisted that you spend a full two days with each head of department, apart from Reyes, in order to learn the ropes of each one and get a feel for what might fit you; you had to admit, medical was not looking like the one for you - you'd never been mathematically minded and it seemed like endless charts and numbers assaulting you wherever you went. If this was bad, you were not looking forward to R&D with Winston and that little Swedish guy.

"Now," Mercy said, raising her voice to grab your attention again. "Can anybody tell me what this is?" She whisked back a curtain to reveal, instead of a hospital bed, a suit bedecked in Overwatch blue and shining white, with twin metal wings extending from the shoulders. You felt like you'd had all the breath knocked out of you.

"A Valkyrie suit," you said quietly, breathlessly, and Ziegler raised an eyebrow in surprise. You didn't see it though, eyes fixed on the staff leaning against the mannequin, the end glowing blue then yellow then blue again; the colours that fell from the sky to save Genji. Potentially. Maybe she mercy-killed him, I mean-

"Yes, yes it is, good," Angela continues, breaking your train of thought. "Someone has done their research I see! Yes, we developed the Valkyrie suit to enable our field medics to heal faster, move faster, even fly." Angela lets out a breathless little laugh. "I myself have piloted it on a few occasions." The crowd of recruits moves closer, oohing and ahhing at the suit, but you focus in on the staff, heft it in one hand; it's heavier than it looks, Angela must be built as hell under that lab coat. You try giving it an experimental twirl, but only end up whacking another recruit across the shins. 

"Impressive, no?" says a voice from just behind you, and you turn to see that Angela is there, with her hand out. You mutely pass the staff over. "The Caduceus Staff is the real hero of the combat medic's arsenal." She taps the colour changing lights with a perfectly manicured nail. "Blue boosts the damage that our infantry can do, yellow heals injuries and restores vitality. Here-" Mercy aims the staff at you, sets it to heal, and blasts you with a tether of bright yellow light. The assembled recruits gasp, but you knew this would happen - after all, you've seen it in action. You feel warm and tingly and more awake than you've done all day, the aches and pains from the exercise fading under the warm yellow light before Mercy turns it off, a haughty look of pride crossing her face. 

"Between you and me," she says, leaning in to address the group with a conspiratorial tone. "We've even been looking into how to revive the dead."

Your heart slams into your ribs at her words, fighting it's way out of your chest. Your voice is surprisingly calm when you speak though, fighting back the squeak that is growing in your throat. "Has it... worked?"

Mercy looks over at you, almost bored, as she sets the staff back on its plinth. "Hm? Oh, no, not successfully. Not entirely."

Your heart sinks all the way through the centre of the earth, or that's what it feels like. Surely if it had worked it would have been front page news all over the globe? You were stupid to come here. You resolve to go to Amari and quit, have your memory wiped Men in Black style if that's what it takes. Your train of thought snags on that last part though - what could she mean by 'not entirely'? There's no time to ask now though, because you're being shuffled off into the rest of the med-bay. 

Through the barrier wall, agents sat on the edge of beds being bandaged and sewn up, having wounds checked or prostheses checked over. McCree, the cowboy that you'd had pointed out earlier waves at the group of you as you passed, one of his arms metal from the elbow down, open as a redheaded girl in a mechanic's jumpsuit fiddled with wires on the inside of it. On the next bed sits the omnic that you just seemed to keep running into. He was talking rapidly, in seemingly fluent Swedish, to the other mechanic, the one whose jumpsuit was printed with the name Lindholm. The conversation dwindles off into silence as the omnic and the engineer noticed the group of you.

"He wants to see you, Mercy," grumbles Torbjörn, inspecting one of the omnic's hands. "I told him he has an appointment tomorrow but he says something's going on with his head."

Mercy looks quizzically at the omnic perched on the end of the bed like a bird, a little sparrow or something, before she composed herself. She turns to address the group as a whole, clapping her hands together.

"Okay, well, that concludes the tour. I'll see you all back here tomorrow, I suppose! Take this time as a break between now and dinner, hm?" And with that she turns all her attention to the metal man on the bed. Her hands are so nimble and quick that you're immediately fascinated, watching as she reaches for the faceplate and flicks the switches on the side. Steam escapes with a little clatter and a hiss and you catch a glimpse of what looked like... skin? You squint, but-

"Hey, don't gawp, recruit," Joe said in what you imagined must be a tone of mocking joviality. He puts one large hand on top of your head and wrenched your gaze towards his own face. "C'mon, you heard the good doctor, we're out of here."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe I'll hit the running track for a little while..." You're distracted, trying to crane your neck past your fellow recruit, and your voice is dazed. Joe chuckles and takes you by the arm.

He drags you to the door and you try a look back before it slams shut behind you.

All you manage to glimpse for less than a split second is a thatch of black hair and a single, bloodshot eye, looking past Ziegler.

Looking straight at you.

***

_Later, in Reyes' office._

"Don't lie to me, Shimada, you knew that the recruits would be in medical today. You went to see that girl."

_Reyes isn't wrong; he's cancelled my appointment for tomorrow as well, reasons that I would have got anything I needed sorted done today. I nod stiffly, not willing to put Gabe's reputation as a human lie detector to the test. He leans on his knuckles, stood behind his desk._

"You're here to do a job, a job that is on thinner and thinner ice every time you sneak out or disobey a direct order. She thinks you're _dead_ , Genji. Let the girl move on."

"Then what is she doing here?"

Reyes shrugs exasperatedly. "Maybe she just really likes the uniforms, I don't fuckin' know. Now get off my windowsill and go get something to eat."

_I turn my gaze back to the running track just outside the window, smirking behind the faceplate. Angela gave it a clean earlier when she looked me over, says my scars are healing well. Maybe I won't have to cover my face forever._

"I would, but the view here is nice."

_Reyes comes over with his brows knitted together in confusion, and then rolls his eyes at me when he sees the track and who's on it._

"Oh for the love of- Just go get something to eat, you perv. Besides, looks like Jesse's keeping her company."

_I look back out and sure enough the cowboy is stood on the sidelines rolling a cigarette, chatting amicably with her as she stretches out after her run. A shiver of rage runs through what's left of my spine; How dare he go near her, especially when she's in those little running shorts- I mean... Wait._

"Hey, Shimada, where you going? Mess hall's the other way."

"I will meet you there later. I need the comms."

***

"You want one?"

The cowboy's voice is a lazy drawl as he holds out the thinly rolled cigarette. You consider telling him that you don't smoke, but then he might leave, and you had some things to ask him. You smile as you bring the filtered end to your lips and he lights it with a gold flip lighter, engraved with BAMF in bold letters. You force yourself to inhale, talking yourself through it without choking. Eurgh, it tastes like something stale and bitter. Huffing the smoke out of your nose, you force a smile as he lights his own.

"Sorry about the cheap tobacco," he growls around the cigarette. "Higher-ups don't consider it a _necessity_. Hell, I should switch t' cigars, see if they'll pay for 'em." 

"Good plan," you say hoarsely, choking down another drag of the cigarette. The comms unit on McCree's belt starts beeping, but he silences it with a press of a button. "Shouldn't you answer that?"

McCree waves his metal hand nonchalantly. "Naw, it's just the team, if it was an emergency they'd come get me personally. They know I'm not much of a talker. Specially when it's interruptin' a conversation with such charming company." He tips his hat and you have to giggle; a cowboy in the 21st century, almost the 22nd, and you were being flirted with by him. Life really was strange. You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at encouraging him, but, Genji was dead, you were sure of that now. Your guilt shouldn't exist. But still, it nudged at your ribs, settled under your lungs like a tumor. 

"What're they like, Blackwatch I mean?" you ask, considering the burning embers at the end of your unwanted smoke. "That omnic guy seems a little... weird?" You trail off, unable to think of a stronger adjective. McCree smirks.

"Kenshin? He's got a stick up his metal ass but that's about as weird as he gets."

"No, no, the other one! With the red eyes?"

"Oh, _him_? He's not an omnic! Naw, he's a cyborg, all human under that metal." McCree shudders, as though the thought of what's under the cyborg's armour was not something he's like to see again. "I think he's... Something to do with organised crime? Ziegler brought him in, he was nearly cut in half. His na-"

McCree was cut off by three things; his comms blazing into frantically beeping into life, a banging coming from the building behind the pair of you, and you choking on a mouthful of smoke in response to the first two. McCree's metal hand shoots over to pat and massage your back as he snuffs out his own cigarette, human hand flying to his earpiece to answer the call. The banging continues.

"What? Whaddaya mean get my hand off her, she's _choking_. Okay, okay, I'll be right up if it's that much of an emergency."

McCree's hands drop back to his side, and you look up through streaming eyes to see Reyes at the window high above you; the banging had been him knocking to get McCree's attention. He jabbed a finger at the cowboy and then at the floor he stood on, the meaning clear: here, now.

"Sorry pumpkin, apparently Maxima's in some sorta trouble and they need the rest of us. Don't choke no more, alright?" He turns to jog away, but you call out.

"Hey! What were you gonna say, before the call?"

McCree calls back over his shoulder to you. "No idea! Completely slipped my mind!"

And then he's gone. You drop the smoldering remains of your cigarette in the red dirt and squash it with your heel. You shake your head, unable to shake away the feeling that you just missed out on something important with it.

Stretching out all over again, you start to jog around the track one last time, hoping to tire yourself out and stop your brain from overthinking.

You know it won't work, but it can't hurt either.

***

You've missed the recruit slot for dinner by the time you get to the mess hall, but the cook manning the hatch is sympathetic and slips you a styrofoam takeout box with some leftovers in, which you take outside to eat, sitting on the steps under the last rays of the falling sun. You find it hard to eat in the hall itself, the hustle and bustle of the kitchens reminding you of Shimada Castle and everything that happened there; you half expected to see Poppy come stumbling out of the kitchen with her hair a mess, or Hanzo to appear through the dining room doors with Yuuto in tow. You shudder at the thought. Best not.

The glass door just behind you opens with a soft hissing noise and there's a clank of metal as someone settles themselves on the step just above you. Your heart beats a vicious drum solo against your ribs, daring you to turn around.

"I know, right? Just like the castle."

You know that voice.

"The amount of times you ran into that kitchen late, I'm surprised you've made it three days in basic."

Your heart skips a beat at the familiarity of it; you still don't turn. "Well, I guess I was just hiding my real talents."

The voice chuckles. "Ha, weren't we all?"

You finally swivel your head to talk to the omnic face to face; he looks so different out of his Shimada Castle busboy uniform, dressed up in Overwatch blue and Blackwatch red. "It's good to see you, Kenshin."

He whirs happily and puts a hand on your shoulder. "Good to see you too. Unexpected, but good."

You sit like that for a moment, omnic and human, a box of chicken and rice going cold in your lap, the shadows around you lengthening. There was so much you wanted to ask him; _what are you doing here? What am I doing here? What else did you lie about? Have you heard from anyone? Poppy? Hanzo? Did Hanzo know Blackwatch was in the castle?_ You hold your tongue; the silence is pleasant enough.

Kenshin withdraws his hand with a little squeeze.

"I suspect you have questions."

You nod, a mouthful of food blocking your next words. "More'n you know."

Kenshin laughs, that rough, mechanical chuckle that you learned by heart back in Hanamura. "Thought so. Get through basic and you'll have some answers, I promise. Maybe not the ones you're looking for, but some."

You nod, mouth still glued up with rice, and turn your gaze back to the sunset and the date palms.

"I'm rooting for you, recruit," Kenshin says, breaking the silence anew. You swallow, turn, smile at him, tilting upwards as he gets to his feet. He stares off into the distance as he descends the steps, and you barely catch his parting words.

"We both are."


	16. Through His Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //it's time for another Genji's perspective chapter! I know how much y'all enjoyed the last one, lmao, so here's another. I swear it'll make sense - don't worry, back to our regularly scheduled Reader-perspective chapters next week. So let's get almost into the head of a recently cyberized ninja shall we?
> 
> //Featuring Maxima Wilson, officialvarrictethras' OC one last time.

"You were _inappropriately touching_ a recruit of all things, for Christ's sake Jesse-"

"She was _choking_ , Wilson, what was I s'posed to do, just let her cough up a lung?"

" _Yes_."

"Whaddya care, anyway? It's not like we're-"

"Oh, just drop it, Jesse," Maxima huffs finally, pushing back her chair and stomping off to another place in the Blackwatch quarters. There's a series of heavy footfalls, two slamming doors, and then the distant plucking of guitar strings.

"S'alright, she's not got her amp cannon in there," Reyes says from his leaning post against the door frame. "The building can stay standing for one more day. Now we can sort _this_ out." He gestures at the table where McCree and Genji still sat. The cowboy had his boots up on the tabletop, hat pushed back and an unlit rolled cigarette dangling delicately from his lower lip. Genji was maskless for once, dressed casually in sweatpants and a tank-top instead of his full armour, the glint of metal around his jaw and all down one arm the only visible evidence of his cyberisation. He rubs his face with his human hand, stretching the scars grotesquely; he looks like Freddy Krueger on a particularly bad day, and he knows it. He's looking everywhere except at McCree and Reyes.

"Genji, what was all this mess with the comms about?" Reyes asks that as if he doesn't already know it was about the recruit, the one that Genji gets so cagey about, the one he knew before Blackwatch. Genji shrugs petulantly instead of responding and Reyes pushes off the door frame with a sigh, plants himself on the edge of the table.

"I'm not gonna be a total hardass; just explain it and we can all leave this room. Maybe I'll even order pizza. Morrison on the other hand, won't take too kindly to you using the comms for personal reasons so-"

Genji sighs, annoyance sketched into every line of him. "Good cop/bad cop? Really Gabe? You're better than that." Reyes smiles behind his goatee, and a smirk twitches at the corner of Genji's lips - all he'd needed really was some time to cool off. "I'll take anchovies on mine." Reyes claps him roughly on the shoulder and says something that sounds suspiciously like 'my man' before fishing out his phone and tapping away to order the pizza online. McCree scoffs.

"Y'all're disgustin'," he says, pulling a face and rocking his chair back on two legs. "I'll take Hawaiian."

The room quickly devolves into arguing about whether tiny fish or fruit is the more disgusting pizza topping option; even with just three of them the noise is cacophanous enough to draw attention, and the door hisses open to reveal Morrison himself, drawn by the noise apparently. He looks like a comic book cover, all blonde hair and red-white-and-blue uniform, a good-natured smile on his angular face. 

"The hell's going on in here?"

Reyes flicks his eyes to the Strike-Commander, one eyebrow raised. "An interrogation, what's it look like?"

"It looks like a sleepover, Gabriel," Morrison replies dryly, raising an eyebrow in return, before his gaze swivels to Genji. "Hey, Shimada, you wanna explain what this comms log is about?" The strike-commander taps at the wrist-mounted computer on his uniform, bringing up a written transcript of the two unauthorised calls made from Genji's comms unit earlier that day. Genji groans and buries his face in his hands, making Reyes and Jesse chuckle.

" _Okay_ ," relents the ninja at long last, speaking into his palms instead of up at his superiors, breath misting the cool metal of his right hand. "I saw Jesse talking to, uh, someone I knew, and so I tried calling and he didn't answer." Genji parts his fingers to glare at the cowboy between them; Jesse shrugs.

"I was havin' a pleasant, and totally platonic, conversation," he says nonchalantly, raising his voice for the disclaimer in the middle as though trying to make sure Maxima hears him. The distant guitar riffs pick up speed. 

Jack points at a section of the transcript, eyebrows lowered in confusion. "Athena couldn't translate this bit, you wanna, uh-"

"I could," admits Genji, finally raising his head out of his hands. There's twin red marks on each cheek where he's pressed too hard into the scarred flesh. "But I'm not supposed to use that kind of language in front of you, Strike-Commander." Reyes snorts with laughter at Genji's answer, smothering it behind his hand, and even Jack has to disguise a smile.

"Right. And the problem with agent Wilson?"

"She's got a crush on the cowboy," Genji says with a shrug. "I knew she'd get jealous and make a scene, so I told her to look at what was happening, and she called him from my comms unit. I'm sure you can tell that all _that_ language was not my doing." He points at a long string of curse words on the transcript and Morrison chuckles.

"No, I suppose not and, Reyes-" Gabriel lifts his head from his phone. "How are you not done ordering pizza yet? Those keyboard clicks are driving me insane."

Reyes shakes his head. "I was done ages ago, I'm looking for a song. Something to suit our ninja's mood." 

The other three men in the room share matching looks of confusion, before Reyes lets out a little noise of triumph and a slow plucking of guitar strings enters the room form the tinny speakers on his phone. Morrison snorts immediately, and smothers his laughter behind a gauntlet, shaking like a leaf.

"Oh my god Reyes, _Rick Springfield_? That was old when we were their age, they're not gonna-"

"Oh, they'll get it, Morrison," declares Gabriel, kicking out a chair for the commander. "Now, are you gonna shut up and chip in for this pizza or not? Shit's expensive."

Genji and McCree shoot each other looks of distress mixed with confusion, trying to listen out for lyrics. When they start, spots of colour bloom high in both their cheeks.

_Jesse is a friend, yeah I know he's been a good friend of mine..._

"Eh?" says Reyes excitedly, holding the phone closer to the ninja and the cowboy. 

_Jesse's got himself a girl and I wanna make her mine..._

Genji's cheeks turn beetroot-red under the scars, which stick out starkly pale and sickening over what little unmarred flesh remains. Morrison's laughter makes it sound like he's choking, and Jesse has pulled his hat low over his brow now, hiding whatever is happening on his face. 

Reyes starts singing the chorus and Morrison joins in semi-reluctantly between peals of laughter. " _I wish that I had Jesse's girl, where can I find a woman li-_ " 

They are cut off abruptly as Genji snatches the phone and slams the pause button with enough force to crack the screen. "A-ha-ha-ha. Very funny. Enough." Reyes snatches the phone back with a pout to examine the damage, and Morrison straightens up, runs a hand through his hair, wipes away an errant tear. 

"Aw, lighten up Shimada, they're just teasin' ya," McCree says, cutting the silence like diamond through glass. "Y'know there's nothin' really going on with me and that recruit, right?" Genji nods stiffly, tilting his head up, a thousand-yard stare that could bore holes through the ceiling passing over his face. There's a scrape of metal on metal as Morrison pushes his chair back to stand.

"Exactly," he says, not a trace of his earlier mirth left in his stiff, stern voice. "Now, for what I really came here for; Reyes, I need to borrow agent McCree for a little while. I'm sure you'll save him some food?"

"I'm not touching his trash pineapple pizza," Reyes replies with a dismissive wave, not looking up from his phone screen. "You do what you want with him. Me and Shimada here are gonna have a good time." Genji raises a sparse eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure we are. Talk to you later, McCree?" The cowboy nods seriously, dusting himself off as he stands, a habit built into him after riding motorcycles through the desert for most of his teenage years. He and the strike-commander leave with casual salutes, everyone too tired to bother with niceties now. The door shuts with a swooping noise and a decompression hiss. 

"Hey," says Reyes, his tone so serious that Genji turns to look at him. The look on his face is unusually grave, even for him, and Genji frowns. "You sure you're alright? I can't have distracted agents out there, y'know."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Genji says with a sigh, rubbing his eye with the heel of one hand. "Hungry, more than anything." Reyes lets out a short, sharp bark of laughter. 

"Well, alright. I'll break out a couple of beers from the commissary and we'll eat. And hey, you'll probably see her even sooner than you think, don't worry about it."

***

As it turned out, it would be another week before he saw her again, before his eyes could strain past the red glare of the visor and the cables, in order to see her kind face, her sweet eyes, her plump lips, that smile that still set his heart alight. Every time he saw her he knew it could be for the last time, and the fact that merely a month or so ago he could have grabbed her and kissed her with no worries was what hurt most of all, more than all the nanites stitching his skin back together in the world.

He perches, awkwardly and almost painfully, on the edge of the sick-bay bed, knuckles almost as white as the crisp starched sheets beneath him as he grips the edge of the bed. Doctor Ziegler and Torbjorn stand with identical looks of interest on their faces, as though he's a particularly fascinating car engine, or an unusual collection of spores in a Petri dish. The fact that he is stripped of his faceplate and armour doesn't help at all, especially when Torbjorn gets up close, examining the seam between his metal jaw and his skin. Genji successfully fights off the urge to headbutt him.

"Genji?"

Ziegler's thick accent breaks through the fog in his brain, and he shakes his head like a dog with water in its ears, eyes focusing on her. He can hear the wires behind them clicking as they hurry to keep up with the neurons firing in his brain.

"Huh?"

Ziegler tuts at his vague reply. "You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" Genji shakes his head, only avoiding a tongue lashing of epic, Swiss proportions because he had the good sense to look guilty. Still, Mercy's face clouds over and twin lines deepen between her eyebrows as she scowls. "We're still working on a more streamlined, permanent solution to your prosthetic limbs, and we'll make armour to match when we get them. How are the legs?" Genji lifts each leg individually, showing the doctor how the joints move, how the little vents clack open and closed to give off steam; he feels like a clockwork robot from a bedtime story his father read to him and Hanzo once, a long time ago, a lifetime even. The right leg is metal through and through, all the way to the hip; his left leg is only metal to the knee. He's lost his dragon tattoo, and he mourns it; it matched Hanzo's, it matched Sojiro's, it marked him as one of theirs, as a Shimada. Genji obediently lets Ziegler and Torjorn pull him about, a marionette with the strings cut and most of its parts missing, but still fun to play with for now. Eventually the novelty wears off, and Torbjorn scribbles some notes on his clipboard as he shuffles off, muttering about calculations. Angela would normally go too, but she stands, staring and tapping her chin with one slender finger as though deep in thought. 

"You're distracted by something, agent Shimada," she says, and Genji looks at her as he snaps the armour back on over his human arm. "I don't like it. You should be focused on your recovery. You're getting..." She shrugs, closing her eyes and heaving a sigh through her nose. "Sloppy. There, I said it."

Genji rolls his eyes, safe behind the cover of his visor as he fastens it to the metal that runs up the back of his neck. "Sometimes you sound just like my brother." Angela seems stricken by this, eyes popping open and one hand reaching out to touch him, to comfort him. He sidesteps it easily; those hands are too cold, too clinical, too associated with exploratory prods rather then tender touches. 

"Genji, I-"

He picks up his red Blackwatch hoodie, shrugs into it with ease, a crackle of static between the fleecy lining and his cold metal body. "I'll see you later, Doctor Ziegler."

There is a note of brusque finality to his voice as he sweeps past the still stunned doctor, who seems to be chewing on her thumbnail although it's already bitten down to the quick. He pulls the hood of his jacket up over his head as he stomps out of the medical ward, stuffs his hands in his pockets. He's lost in his thoughts, mulling over his rudeness to Angela, tired and sore from being pulled about and examined, and there's a cold twinge of phantom pain that shoots up and down where his right leg should be, as it always does after these sessions. A terrible low mood had overtaken him today and instead of looking for a way to cheer up he decides to spend the rest of the day brooding and sul-

_Whack!_

A person, a woman, has walked straight into him as he blocks the entrance to the sickbay.

"Oh, oh fuck, I am so sorry," says her voice, and there's a quick flash of her face as she bends down to collect what she's dropped - a stack of medical files apparently, bright pink and yellow paper strewn about both of their feet. Genji flushes behind his mask as he bends to help her scoop up the papers, but his bad mood creeps out nevertheless.

"You should watch where you're going," he snaps, snatching a sheaf of papers off the floor. "And watch your language around superior agent re-"

_Oh._

"-Cruit."

He rocks back on his haunches as he hands over the papers to the woman he's been waiting to see all week, the one person on earth other than his brother who cannot know that he's alive. Every inch of him is suddenly on fire under the metal, and he aches to reach out and tuck the lock of hair that's fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. He watches her lips move, and his brain dredges up a memory of kissing those very lips from somewhere in the cavernous reaches of his mind, and he knows, intimately, just how soft they are. She bites the lower one, eyes wide and expectant. He cannot hear what she's saying over the deafening roar of blood in his ears.

"Oh, uh, apology accepted," he stammers, hoping she can't hear his heart machine-gun-beating against his ribcage. He keeps his accent thick, disguises his voice. This seems to be the right answer as she breathes a sigh of relief and the colour in her cheeks goes down - he knows that the skin there is soft too, having brushed his fingertips over it a thousand times, knows there's a ticklish spot just at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, that she squeals when he worries it with his teeth. She gestures to his red hoodie.

"Blackwatch, huh? I figured, cause, medical is green and R&D is yellow, and obviously infantry is blue so..." She trails off, and the itch in Genji's palms longs to soothe itself on her skin. "They've been drilling us on the uniform today. Selection is only days away after all." She waves her hands in mock celebration, and he laughs nervously, misting the faceplate. He loves how funny she is. How dry and sarcastic and quick she can be. He just nods in answer to her question, helps her stack the files neatly in her arms as the two of them stand. "Looks like Medical isn't gonna be an option."

"Yknow, I don't actually know your name," she continues brightly from behind the tall stack of papers. She introduces herself then, and Genji could have bowled her over and shook her then. _As if you don't know me. As if I don't know your name too, as if I don't wake up gasping it every night when I'm not screaming for my brother. Recognise me! Don't recognise me!_

"We're not supposed to share our names-" he says, and then coughs, makes his voice a little lower, a little more accented. "Blackwatch, that is." There's another huff of air as she blows that pesky lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Well, you wanna tell your cowboy friend that, then," she says, humour creeping in at the edge of her voice. "He just about told me everything about you guys. Well, almost." He can hear the smile in her voice, the way it stretches her words, could sketch it with his eyes closed if someone handed him some charcoal, right there on the shiny white floor. There's a hiss behind him then, and the med-bay doors open. Ziegler calls for the girl with the files, reprimands her for being late. With a grimace and another hiss of the door, she's gone, and Genji is left standing, staring at the spot in the air where she used to be. Close enough to touch. 

He lowers his head and makes for the barracks before he can run into the medbay after her.

***

The whistle cuts through the air like a knife, making all the recruits snap to attention. Genji, watching from the sidelines with the rest of Blackwatch, chuckles to himself when he notices a couple of them smack themselves in the eye while trying to salute Captain Amari. She is in full drill sergeant mode, her usual armour swapped out for workout gear and a headscarf, gleaming silver whistle hung around her neck, voice a sonic boom as she commanded them to move onto something else. The recruits are scattered throughout the gym, taking on various training exercises - here wilderness training, fire-starting and the like; over the other end, high-tech weapons ("non projectiles only, this isn't a goddamned shooting range, recruits"). There's even a set of sparring mats for recruits to try their luck against actual agents. When he'd made a beeline for them, Angela had caught him by his hood and forbade him from fighting anyone. 

"We don't know how strong you are now, not really," she'd explained, wrangling him back to the sidelines. "I don't want to be responsible for you putting a metal fist through a recruit's head."

And so, here he was, watching as the other agents ran drills or explained things; a few recruits had latched themselves onto the Strike-Commander who was all too happy to demonstrate how to load a pulse rifle. Maxima was showing off her amp-cannon, a device that converted sonic energy into concussive force - at least, that was how he understood it. Reyes, however, sat with Genji. He didn't mind but-

"I can't help but feel like Angela has you keeping an eye on me."

Reyes raises an eyebrow at his agent's candid speech, takes a deep gulp from the protein shake in his hand, wipes his mouth on his wrist. " _Doctor Ziegler_ doesn't have seniority over me, so she can't tell me to do anything." He shrugs, never taking his eyes off the sparring match in front of them. "Maybe I let her know how you're doing. That's all."

"So, she knows? About-"

"About your little crush? Please. We're not blind."

Genji flushes behind his mask. Was he really being that obvious? Clearly not to the object of his affections, or she might actually have noticed him. Better that she didn't, he supposes, after all, he's meant to be dead. 

"She's doing well though, it seems?" he asks, curious. She didn't seem to fit in during the Medical training, and he can't imagine R&D will go much better when it starts tomorrow. Perhaps infantry then? It was too much to hope for Blackwatch, and he knew it. Reyes shrugs again, an infuriatingly vague gesture that makes Genji's steam vents clack open.

"You know'm not allowed to discuss it with you. Hey, you want some of this shake? Peanut butter flavoured." He turns his head, considers the impenetrable wall of Genji's faceplate. "I guess I could pour it into that crack under the visor?"

"It's your funeral if Angela finds out," Genji says, the lilt in his voice the only indication of the wicked grin beneath. Both of their attentions are drawn back to the mat as McCree's voice carries across the cavernous room.

"Well, good t'see you again, darlin'," he drawls, the accent seeming out of place with the lack of cowboy hat and ridiculous belt buckle. "Y'sure you wouldn't rather go up against someone, I dunno, smaller?"

"I'm tougher than I look, promise," says a sweet voice, and Genji's heart all but stops when he recognises McCree's new sparring partner. She looks so different with her hair pushed back like that; it's longer now, he realises, and his fingers twitch as he imagines running his fingers through it. His vision blurs as he shakes his head vigorously. _Not the time or the place._

His heart only starts beating again when they being to fight, and even then it's much too fast. He balls his hands into fists, fighting the urge to get up and drag McCree off that mat, even though he knows full well she can handle herself. She proves it too, ducking two hits for every one she takes and even managing to land a couple on the cowboy. He laughs and springs back, and they circle each other. She's bouncing on her toes and vaguely he remembers teaching her to do that, remembers the way she'd kick the punching bag so hard it reverberated, the way she pinned him and kissed him... That's one he hopes she won't repeat now, at least. She ducks out of the way of a feint from Jesse and slams a knee into his ribs, spinning away before he can retaliate.

"That's my girl," he breathes, quiet enough that even Reyes doesn't hear him. He realises that he's grinning, practically glowing with pride.

McCree is winded and holds up his hands in surrender. "Ooft, okay, I yield. You win this one. That wasn't a bad move!" 

She grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe one day I'll tell you the story about how I broke a guy's nose doing that." McCree, for what it's worth, seems genuinely impressed by this; Genji is taken aback. Whose nose? What the hell had she been up to since he, uh, died?

"Okay, now that is a story I think y'better share," the cowboy says, grabbing two bottles of unlabelled water and tossing one to his sparring partner. They're both covered in sweat, and slightly out of breath, but Genji's eyes flit between the curve of her throat, the dip just above her hips, the swoop of her smile as she starts to tell the story. He drinks in her image as if he's dying of thirst, as if it could be the last time he ever sees her. He wonders, idly, if she ever looked at him as if it was the last time, before it actually was; whether she wakes in the middle of the night with his name dying on her lips. He buries these melancholy thoughts, straining to hear her tale over Amari's whistle.

"So, at my last job there was this guy, Yuuto, right-"

_Damn. That's my girl._


	17. Accipitridae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //back to our regular Reader focused chapters lads! CONTENT WARNING: mild torture.

The feather in your pocket tickles the inside of your wrist as you stroke it. You'd taken to keeping it with you at all times lately, for some reason you couldn't quite grasp; at first it had been in your bag, then under your pillow where you could reach for it, anchor yourself back to reality after another nightmare. They'd got fewer and far between, and yet you still clutched at the steadily balding feather like a drowning man at a lifeline. It bothered you. Not enough to stop though. 

I guess you could say your mind was wandering as Winston and Torbjorn led the tour of the R&D labs; every question anyone asked was discussed between the two for entirely too long before they invariably decided the answer was 'classified', and a lot of the doors were blocked or guarded by literal lasers. There'd also been some kind of construction happening on base all morning and the noise of it made you feel like a jackhammer was boring into the center of your forehead. The combination was unpleasant, to say the least, and you fought to keep your eyes open as Winston explained something about Tesla coils.

A wild, childlike giggling caught the group's attention and all your heads whipped round to see a pair of actual children, two little girls, clambering on one of the inactive turrets that Torbjorn was clearly working on. The one with the red ponytail pointed a tinfoil scimitar at her opponent, a dark-skinned girl with twin braids, and threatened her in her best pirate voice. Her friend didn't seem amused.

"But I've got _missiles_ , I've gotta win!"

Torbjorn bristled and raised his voice. " _Brigitte_ , what do you think you're doing?"

The girl with the red ponytail blanches pale as snow as she takes in Torbjorn's angry face. "Papa-?"

There's a mighty huffing and puffing of breath as a heavily-muscled blonde man comes jogging from behind your group, huge hands scooping up both girls. He's red in the face and the girls don't seem angry that their playtime has been interrupted at all, instead climbing all over the newcomer with high-pitched squeals of delight. You note with some amusement that he's wearing a tricorn hat.

"Ach, sorry my friend, I took my eye off them for five minutes-" The tall German swallows visibly, a look of nervousness clouding his face. "Don't tell Amari?" 

"But I'm right _here_ ," complains the dark haired girl under the newcomer's arm, which makes him chuckle. Torbjorn still looks as though he might explode, and a vein has popped out in his forehead. He turns to Winston and gestures at the scene with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, by all means," says Winston, a rather human look of barely concealed mirth in his eyes. "I'd hate to break up family time." Torbjorn scoops Brigitte onto his shoulders and leaves with his taller companion, grumbling about how the labs needed more security the whole time.

Winston clears his throat to draw attention back to his talk, but by now most people have started to wander off, picking up weapons and tilting them this way and that, looking down the scopes. You draw up alongside another girl looking at what seems to be a disassembled suit of armour; you pick up a part of it tentatively and it warms up at your touch, circular lights beginning to glow bright green here and there on it. 

"That thing looks like it belongs on an Xbox," scoffs the other recruit, and you laugh, flipping it upside down. There's an engraving on the back, but it merely says 'right shin' - a greave then, you suppose. 

"Yeah, it kinda does," you say, holding it above your head. "Hey, uh, Winston? What's this?"

The gorilla circles around and adjusts his glasses. "Oh, uh, classified." You tut and set the greave down exactly where you found it.

"Shoulda known that'd be the answer, really."

You spend a few idle minutes looking around the lab with the other recruits; conversation turns to lunch, rather than anything to do with R&D.

"Ooh, I think it's pasta today. What day even is it?"

"Nah, it's gotta be tacos, it's Tuesday."

"You _liar_ , it's Wednesday. I think."

"Has anyone actually seen a calendar since we've been here?"

There's a long moment of confused silence as you all wrack your brains, trying to think of the last time you knew the day, even the current month. Your contemplation is broken by a sudden, deafening mechanical shriek, followed by Athena's eerily calm voice.

"Recruit in restricted area. Tracker detonation in 60..."

Everyone frantically looks around for the idiot who has wandered off, and your eyes alight on Joe, your posh bunkmate, stuck stock still in one of the laser grid doors to the weapons caches off the labs.

"59..."

"Joe! _Move_!"

He just stares at you, face as white as a sheet.

"58..."

"I wasn't stealing anything, I swear!"

"We know, just step forward!"

"I can't-"

He tries yanking his arm forward, and you all see that his sleeve seems to be caught on some kind of mechanism.

"Just cut it! You have a combat knife!" Another recruit yells, but Joe shakes his head, his whole body blurring at the edges as he trembles.

"55..."

He was going into a panic attack, eyes swiveling manically, and gropes blindly for his knife; the holster at his thigh is empty.

"52..."

"Oh, for fucks sake," says another recruit, vaulting a counter and drawing their own knife. They cut Joe free, slicing through his shirt; there's a sizzle as the lasers mark both of their skin and Joe stumbles forwards with tears on his face.

"Countdown aborted; thank you recruit, quick thinking," says Athena, before her screen in the corner of the room blinks off. The recruit who helped smiles smugly and holsters their knife, as Winston approaches Joe to make sure he's okay. The whole thing took less than ten seconds but the posh English recruit looks so stricken that you can't help but muffle a chortle at the ridiculousness of it all. You were almost glad that you were being assigned your departments any day now; training was clearly taking its toll on everyone these days.

There's a gruff cough as Winston addresses you all again. "Well, I think that calls an end to the tour, you should go get some lunch. Keep your strength up for uh-" He looks shifty suddenly, thumping over to a computer. "Uh, for later. In the day. Tour dismissed."

Everyone shares almost identical looks of confusion as you head towards the exit, everyone's feet headed to the mess hall far too eagerly.

It seems dark in the corridors, too dark to be the middle of the day in the south of the Iberian Peninsula. You look up as you pass into the hallway, and notice that the windows and skylights are tinted black, obscuring your view of the outside.

"What the fuck?"

"Language, recruit," admonishes the nearest Athena screen, with something that borders on amusement in her synthesized voice.

"Uh, sorry Athena, but what's going on?"

"That, recruit," she says, pausing dramatically, before that playful edge creeps back into her voice. "Is classified."

***

The recruit who had saved Joe gestured at the table at large with their taco, the contents slopping onto the table. "You're both wrong. If you fail training they just take you out back and blow up your trackers. _Boom_!" There's a round of groans, and you struggle to remember how the conversation turned to this.

"Nah, brah," chimes in another recruit, picking at his fingernails with a cocktail stick. "They blow you up, yeah, but they do it on stage in front of all the people that passed. 'S a lesson." This is met with arguments, jabbing fingers, shaken heads.

"I heard they keep a bunch of zomnics in the basement," pipes up a quiet girl with two thick black braids. "They throw you to them if you don't pass training. The fall kills the lucky ones." Her dark eyes sparkle with delight as she spins her gory tale, and a couple of the remaining recruits actually look quite scared. You snort into your drink.

"Like in the kid's story? No way!" This was a recruit with smooth, dark dreads. "I heard they shoot you in the head, and if you live you get in. Except Blackwatch, they shoot you twice." A blonde girl at the other end of the table laughs at that.

"Absolutely not," she says, and her accent is thick and French. "I heard that Doctor Ziegler has an evil twin, and they give you to her to experiment on."

A ripple of nervous laughter travels around the table; suddenly the idea of failing training wasn't so funny anymore. You'd all just succeeded in making each other nervous, when another French voice, male this time, crops up.

"You're all wrong you know," he says, a passing agent in a crisp blue uniform. "It's so, _so_ much worse than you're imagining. See, what they do is-"

" _Lacroix_ ," comes Captain Amari's chagrined voice from the other end of the hall. "Stop antagonising the fresh meat. You're needed on the, ah, the thing." She jabs her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of something outside; the windows on that side of the mess hall are blacked out too, and nobody can get Athena to tell you what's going on. 

"Maybe they just let us go home?" You suggest, balling up your tinfoil. You look up to find a couple of people staring at you incredulously, raised eyebrows and bitten lips. "What?"

"That sounds faker than the fuckin' zomnics."

You laugh at that. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

After the interruption by Lacroix everyone had fallen into their own little conversations, so you turned to the person on your left who'd been quiet this whole time.

"Joe, buddy; you okay?"

He nods weakly. "Yeah. Wounded pride more than anything," he adds, with a rueful little smile. "There's no way I'm passing after that display earlier." You wrap an arm around his shoulders, pat him reassuringly. He's barely touched his food.

"Hey, none of that. They're obviously planning something for us, I'm sure whatever it is you'll pass that with flying colours." His smile grows stronger at that, and you withdraw your arm, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze as you get to your feet to ditch your trash. "And if you fuck up again, who cares? None of us would have made it this far if we didn't deserve to get in."

***

"Alright, this is your last chance to prove that you deserve to be here."

Amari's voice was loud and authoritative through the loudhailer, which she deemed appropriate even though there was barely more than 16 recruits in the room. You'd all been instructed to rush back to your barracks and change for combat before gathering in this antechamber; for recruits, that meant a form-fitting bodysuit and modular armour in recruit matte black. The Overwatch logo on your left bicep glowed in the dark which you'd found pretty cool at first. Armoured for battle, in a group like this, it was easy to feel unstoppable.

"We've spent the whole day setting up a sort of obstacle course for you - _some of you_ might have noticed some weird stuff going on." You swear her eyes linger on you when she delivers that aside. "There's two rooms per department, making six rooms total-" Hands go up, and she waves her free hand to dismiss them. "Covert operations are not participating in this one. Here's the rules-" She lowers the loudhailer to tap a few buttons on her console, which brings the rules up in startlingly huge projected letters.

**1\. One recruit at a time per task.**

**2\. You have until the recruit behind you catches up to complete your task.**

**3\. You are allowed to quit a single task without repercussions.**

**4\. When you get to the end - STOP.**

"Any questions?"

A few hands go up. Amari points to one recruit. "Yeah, uh, where's the other heads of department?"

"You'll see," says Amari, her face twisting into a grin. It's only then that you notice she's in combat armour under her ubiquitous flowing coat. "One more?"

"What's waiting for us in there?"

"Same answer. Now listen for your surnames and-" She smiles, a genuine and soft one this time. "Good luck. Really."

***

It had been twenty minutes now, and you were among the last four recruits left in the antechamber; one was staring at the ground, one bouncing on the balls of his feet. You and Joe, the other two, were stretching out, not knowing what to expect on the other side of the door.

"Maybe it's those zomnics they mentioned earlier," you say with a wry smile, throwing a sidelong glance at your companion, who visibly pales.

"God, don't even joke about that, I didn't sleep for a week after that Rise of the Zomnics movie," he says with a shudder, making you laugh. You are called just as you finish stretching, sending a bolt of fear through you. Joe calls after you.

"Hey! See you on the other side, alright?" You nod, raising a hand to show you heard him and head towards Amari. She has you stand facing the wide double doors, a vast expanse of shiny white that distorts your reflection down to a black smear. She places a hand on your shoulder.

"Ready, recruit?" Amari asks, and you feel more at ease just with her being there. She always seemed like the most level-headed agent you'd come across. Her radio crackles, and what you think is Torbjorn's voice comes across the radio, but he's speaking Swedish and you can't even guess what he might be saying.

"Alright, you're up. Head on in."

The double doors hiss open and you step through into a dark room. It is so perfectly, pitch black that you can't tell if your eyes are even open. You rely on your other senses; the room is cold, there's a faint breeze from somewhere, and you can smell something metallic, rich and heady, something primal - _blood_?

The lights burst on with such ferocity that you shield your eyes with your forearm, squinting around. There is some sort of mannequin on the floor in front of you, two of them actually and one of them is covered in startling real looking blood over its Overwatch uniform. Real smelling too. You fight the urge to gag by chewing on a finger. As you watch, more blood spurts from the leg of the mannequin and there's a faint hydraulic hiss - some of the sticky substance mists your face and you have to breathe deeply through your nose for a minute. A speaker crackles on the medical cart at the other end of the room, and Mercy's voice emanates from it.

"You have to stop one teammate from bleeding out, and put the other in such a position that he won't choke. Clock's a-ticking, recruit."

_Christ_. Okay, recovery position, you remember that one from high school first aid. You grab the non-bloodied mannequin, tilt its head back. You check the plastic airway for blockages, scoop a wad of cotton wool out, lay it down the correct way. There's a faint _ding_ from the radio; you suppose this is a good sign as you swivel to face the bloodied one, which has been steadily leaking lifeblood all over the floor; you can feel the warmth of it sinking into the knees of your bodysuit.

"Oh god, I need a... a tourniquet?" You glance at the medical cart to no avail, all it carries is the radio, which seems to regard you silently, even judgmentally. You reach to elevate the injured leg and your hands slip in the all-consuming blood, skidding off the other side of the body, and earning you another spray in the face with blood. There's a drumming noise somewhere distracting you, and you realise vaguely that it's your own heart pounding with all its might in your ears. The smell of blood clogs up everything you try and breathe in and now you do gag, right before a loud buzzer sounds.

"One saved. That other man is dead, recruit. Next room." 

You get to your feet with your head hanging in shame and wipe your bloody hands as best you can on your armour; mostly they just slip about helplessly. The next door, identical to the last, opens with a clank and Mercy herself is there, holding a towel out for you, which you accept gratefully.

"It's okay, you're doing fine," she says, brusque as always. "If you head over there, you'll see a bunch of skin samples, with various wounds. Pick one and treat it."

She wasn't kidding, these look like 3D versions of the anatomical cross sections in your 11th grade science book. You look back at her, mouth open to ask a question, but Mercy waves it away with the bloody towel.

"Don't worry, they're synthetic. Now hurry up, the recruit behind you has already stopped the bleeding."

_Ouch._

***

Despite your initial slip up, you manage quite well for the rest; you successfully treat a burn for Mercy, help Torbjorn build a turret, build a fire and identify a poisonous plant for another agent. The only one you have to walk away from is a lengthy explanation and demonstration of a Tesla coil with Winston; you just can't wrap your head around that stuff. You finally jog, slightly breathless, into the final room, another round of infantry training. It's like the wind is knocked out of you.

It's the Hanamura gym, almost exactly. 

Springy wood floors, tables of weapons, locked cabinets, two training dummies. The only difference is that Strike-Commander Morrison is standing in the middle of it.

"Nice, right?" 

The question goes in one ear and straight out the other. Morrison begins explaining that your surroundings are a hologram, designed to mimic your training grounds from what little Athena can glean from memories obtained during interviews and-

"Can you turn it off?"

Your sudden question stops Morrison in his tracks. "I mean- yes, but, why? Then all you'll be left with is the dummies and the weapons. Are you su-"

"Yes, god, yes," you say, looking everywhere but the windows where you can see Athena even included the rustling cherry blossom trees. It evens smells right, of the wood polish that stained your hands that weird yellow colour, of sweat, of incense smoke, and Yuuto's cigarettes. _How deep had she dug? How much had they seen, did they know? Who you knew? Why you came?_ Even as your brain tries to gather all these questions into something coherent the hologram fractures into a million coloured pieces, like stained glass, and vanishes from view. You rub your chest with the heel of your palm, trying to calm your racing heart. "Thank you, Strike-Commander."

Disguising the naked concern on his face with a smile that never reaches his eyes, Morrison gestures at the table of weapons. "No problem. This is just to test your marksmanship; pick one of these and we'll see. Just hit the dummies anywhere you think is sufficient with your chosen weapon." 

You approach the table, eyes roaming over what is available to you, and noting the influences; there's a six-shooter which was clearly added for McCree, a sniper rifle for Amari, throwing knives for Lacroix, a pulse rifle for the Strike-Commander. There seems to be every kind of projectile, from the most basic pistol, to a pair of unwieldly SMGs, to what you're sure is a railgun, to-

"Shurikens, huh?" Morrison says with some surprise as your hands close around the cold metal of the throwing stars. The glint of them had caught your eye as you were admiring a pair of particularly chunky shotguns, and you'd grabbed them without even really thinking. Your throat goes dry, but you manage a small nod. 

"Alright, show me what you can do."

Heart thumping only a fraction slower than before, you line yourself up with the targets, and close your eyes, reaching back into memories you'd hoped to forget to find the right one, like flicking through old letters marked with lipstick stains and smudged ink. You alight, finally, on the one you needed - a lesson in marksmanship from what seemed a lifetime ago; you can almost feel Genji's always-warm hands on yours, his breath on the back of your neck as he taught you how to line up your thumb with the point of the weapon, the weight of him behind you solid and strong.

_"Now bring your arm up, put your hand next to your ear..." He trails off, and now his chin is resting on your head, your arms mirror images of each other, coiled and ready to strike. He tilts his head for a moment and you swear that he nestles his cheek into your hair like a cat being petted..._

No.

_"Okay, point your elbow where you want the shuriken to go and... Throw!"_

Better.

You follow Genji's ghostly advice; you aim as quickly as you can, suddenly conscious that the recruit behind you has been hot on your tail the whole time, and the shurikens spin through the air with a faint _whoosh_ landing right where you wanted them as though guided by some unseen force, some invisible hand. Eyes, throat, groin. Three identical thunks of metal into wood, one after the other. You straighten up, let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding. Morrison makes a noise of approval in his throat, an almost happy hum.

"Interesting choice of weapon, but full marks on this one, recruit. Head on through to the next room and take a seat. There's a bit of a wait now, I'm afraid."

You can't stop the grin that bursts across your face at his assessment - sure, you'd only joined a super-secretive paramilitary organisation halfway across the world on a whim that it might help you find out what happened to your dead lover but, hey, crazier things have happened. You think. Maybe you'll actually be good at this.

You pass into a chamber that is a mirror of the antechamber at the start of the course and almost immediately all the strength goes out of your legs, and you find yourself crumpling to your knees.

"Woah, you okay?" chorus several other recruits, reclining in various states of uprightness around the room.

"That," you say breathlessly. "Was terrifying."

***

Finally, you are joined by the last of the recruits, including a grinning Joe who seemed to have done pretty well on the Tesla coil bit as he won't shut up about it. You almost missed panicky, quiet Joe. You gather in groups, lounging around, discussing how you did, basically just wasting time until you're told you can leave. There's a decompression hiss as the door to the outside opens, allowing a group to enter; Reyes, McCree, Morrison, Amari, Lacroix to begin with. They are followed by Mercy, who everyone gasps at; she's in full Valkyrie armour and it really is a sight to see with the wings open and glowing. Behind her comes Kenshin, and the rest of Blackwatch, including that cyborg that you keep running into. Greetings are exchanged, and the recruits slowly fall silent as each of them notices the same thing; every single agent in front of them is in full armour, and armed. The barrel of Amari's sniper rifle looks as tall as she is, and Lacroix is idly twirling one of his blades as though it won't cut his fingers off if he slips.

"You didn't think that would be it, did you?" asks Morrison with a wicked grin, pulse rifle hoisted cockily over his shoulder. "Recruits, it's time you were in your first real combat situation."

All at once Athena turns the blacked out windows on all sides as clear as day and there's a sharp intake from every recruit.

Outside the gardens have been transformed into a gleaming white practice range; there's various bits of cover, a couple of dilapidated-looking empty buildings, and here and there robots float past. Your eyes fix on the double gun barrels emerging from the metallic carapace of one as it passes the window, and you shudder involuntarily.

"Your job is to work both individually and as a team to get your injured teammate off the field before you're both killed," Morrison goes on to explain. "Partner up, and pick which one of you is the injured party." 

Almost immediately an arm lands across your shoulders and you look up to the crinkled smile of Joe. "Fancy getting me out of here?" You roll your eyes at him, but nod anyway. He goes dead weight straight away and you yelp as you're nearly dragged down with him, face flushing bright pink. He laughs, and settles himself more comfortably across you. 

"Alright, some interesting choices. Now, both of you grab a gun, and we'll see you out there. Oh and-" Here, Morrison pauses and raises an eyebrow. " _We're_ the enemy team." And with that the senior agents leave, laughing among themselves. Everyone is stunned into silence this time, but you shuffle about getting ready. An Overwatch agent in blue passes out comms units, makes sure you're all on the same wavelength. You grab a pistol while Joe takes an SMG. 

"Go big or go home, huh?" you say, grinning up at him as he fake-limps alongside you. He salutes you with the barrel of the gun, and you flinch. "You're gonna shoot yourself in the head if you do that." He shakes his head.

"Nah, Morrison said they were rubber bullets. Pay attention, recruit." This last part is delivered in a surprisingly good mockery of Morrison's voice, and you laugh as you line up at the door. The agent with the comms units is yelling instructions, about shield packs and armour packs, health points, and other things that make your head swim. You bounce on the balls of your feet, eager to get this over with.

"Alright, recruits, enemy team in position," comes Reyes' smooth voice over the comms. "Good luck out there. You'll need it."

With a roar rather than a hiss, the doors part and the recruits rush out like water, like a tidal wave of black, even though half of them are pretending to be injured. In the distance you see a blue pillar of light.

"There!" you call, pressing your gun hand to the comms unit. "Head for that, that's gotta be the goal!" Easier said than done; this place is labyrinthine, and far too quiet - there'd been no reports so far of any of the enemy team, or even the robots. 

"Split up everyone," comes a voice over the comms. "I can hear guitar somewhere due east, so avoid that, it'll be Wilson. Remember to communicate." There's a murmur of assent over the comms, and you and Joe head west, deeper into the maze of white walls. You're trying to move quickly, but quietly, and your combat boots squeal on the polished floor. Joe's head swivels, keeping an eye out for threats. He hisses and flattens you against the wall, quieting you with a look when you protest.

"There was a glint, that way. Must be a scope. Hold on-" He hisses, and then breathes your location into the mic. "It's gotta be Amari; hug the wall and she can't see us." 

You slide along the wall with your injured partner, peeking around the corner when you reach the other end; it looks clear, for now, and you drag him with you, moving a little faster now. Your breath catches when you spot a figure not too far away though, looking in the opposite direction. You turn your head a little to whisper to Joe, never taking your eye off the enemy.

"It's Kenshin," you whisper, cocking your gun as quietly as humanly possible. The twin sais on the omnic's back certainly don't look like rubber. "Wanna take him out?" Joe nods, and you feel his head move against yours. Turning back to your victim, you both raise your guns and fire. There's a horrifically loud rattle of gunfire and Kenshin shouts in surprise, the rubber bullets ricocheting off of him and all over the walls. Athena's voice comes over your comms.

"Kenshin eliminated, good job recruit!"

Kenshin raises his hands in surrender, but as you approach him you can hear the mechanical whir of his laughter. "Okay, okay, I deserved that. Get out of here." You throw the omnic a wink as you drag your teammate past him, heart still hammering in your chest as fast as it can. The next alleyway is devoid of life, as is the one after that. 

"Fuck me, where is everyone?" complains your injured teammate, and there's a shuffling noise and a faint _oof_ as someone rolls up behind you, literally rolls. 

"I wouldn't complain too much," drawls a voice, followed by the loud click of a hammer being drawn back. "Jus' makes ya easier to follow, darlin'." You turn to face McCree, pistol drawn, shoving Joe to the floor, but McCree is already ready to fire and as he brings his mechanical hand up to fan the hammer all the wind is knocked from your chest by something falling out of the sky, knocking you backwards onto Joe.

"Hey!"

The complaint is from McCree, as you're still gulping for air like a beached fish, tangled up in a mix of Joe's legs and the metal limbs of whoever just knocked you on your ass. You look; it's the cyborg, the one who whacked into you outside the med bay the other day.

"We have to stop meeting like this," you wheeze, as he climbs off you. 

"I misjudged that jump," he says, and you can hear the embarrassment in his voice. "Go on, get away from here. I think McCree will not mind after I made a mistake." You scramble to your feet with a whispered word of thanks, and scoop Joe up as you go, hurrying off around the corner. 

As you go, you're pretty sure you hear McCree complain about something to do with a 'goddamn conflict of interests'. Whatever that meant.

***

The comms unit in your ear crackles to life again, surprising you. "Alright, recruits, some of you are out, some of you are dead. Those of you left in the practice range, you're our top priority. Watch out."

You sigh and adjust the earpiece; you and Joe had just taken out one of the training bots, and narrowly avoided a run in with Lacroix and his wickedly sharp throwing knives; looks like they hadn't replaced those with rubber, especially after one stuck in the concrete wall where your head had been a second before. From the announcements over the comms the only senior agents still in were Amari, Morrison, Reyes, and Mercy. Still, the prospect of coming face to face with a pulse rifle or a huge shotgun wasn't pleasant, rubber bullets or no.

"We can't be that far away now," Joe says, standing awkwardly from his perch on the burnt out training bot. "From the looks of it we just gotta head that way, then that way." he points out the path with two sharp hand gestures and you, getting too tired to argue, nodded and scooped his arm back over your shoulder.

"Ready, partner?"

"As I'll ever be. Let's get out of here."

Dragging Joe, slower than before, you head towards the narrow path ahead, having to slide in sideways to fit the both of you. Neither of you looks up to check the top of the walls. This proves to be a mistake.

Your earpiece crackles, and Morrison's voice filters through. "Your attention please, recruit-"

Your hand shoots up to the earpiece. "Yes, Strike-Commander."

Morrison takes a deep breath before he answers, right as Joe starts frantically scrabbling for something with his free hand. "God, fuck, where's that shield..."

When Morrison speaks again, you hear it through your whole body, it feels almost as if the ground shakes.

" _I've got you in my sights_."

You have time for one word before you start running. " _Fuck_."

Your feet pound the pavement as the hail of bullets starts raining down, followed by the telltale whoosh of a set of helix rockets coming right for your head. The wind is knocked out of you all over again as Joe stumbles, knocking you onto your front and a scream is ripped from your throat as you skid along the polished white floor. You curl up, arms over your head, and brace for impact.

It never comes. 

You uncurl slowly, one limb at a time, and roll tentatively onto your back. Above you, and all around, is a dome of shimmering blue; a shield. Joe had found it at just the right second. You sit up to see your training partner grinning at you from the other side of the dome and you smile back, embarrassment curling in the pit of your stomach at your reaction. 

"I'm meant to be saving you, y'know," you mock-chide him. He shrugs, but on his face is a smug smirk. Your attention is drawn away by movement behind Joe, outside the barrier - Morrison had come down, and was aiming his pulse rifle right at your head.

"That barrier won't last forever, you know," he says, adjusting the gun to better glare down the sights. "Better think quick." You try.

"Joe," you say quietly, shifting subtly to brace your feet on the floor, legs bent to spring. "Start crawling for the exit."

"Whu-" he starts, but then sees you bracing to jump. "Hey, he has a gun you can't-"

"I got my highest marks in hand-to-hand. Trust me. As soon as this barrier goes down, get out of here." He doesn't argue back. You glance up, making sure the Strike-Commander hasn't noticed anything afoot, and get into position. 

It seems to happen in slow motion. 

The barrier splinters and you launch yourself up, hands curled into claws, smashing the barrier into a thousand shards of light. You latch onto Morrison with all your might, bringing well-placed fists down against his temples, legs braced around his mid-section. He's too surprised to even fire, and Joe starts crawling away with a shocked laugh.

Having stunned him, you jump off the Strike-Commander and drop low, sweeping his legs out from under him, and you plant a boot on his chest as he goes down, pinning him.

"Yield!" Morrison calls, dropping the pulse rifle. "I yield."

Vaguely, you register that someone is laughing in your earpiece, and look up to see Reyes watching from the safe zone outside the labyrinth. You salute him half-assedly, and he does one back, turning away, still laughing. The cyborg is at his side, shoulders shaking with what you can only assume is laughter; the sight warms your chest for reasons you can't fashion into words.

You take your foot off your superior officer.

"Okay, that was pretty ballsy," Morrison admits, dusting himself off as he stands. "Go on, get your teammate and get out of here, recruit."

With a grin that overtakes most of your face, and a proper salute, you obey.

***

The rest of the night had passed in somewhat drunken revelry, even though lights out was still at 11. You'd drunk two glasses of champagne to celebrate finishing training and, although the second one had tasted a little strange, you'd had fun. It wasn't long after that that you'd stumbled to the bunks, alone and earlier than everyone else, barely registering when the door opened and more people stumbled in looking for their beds. Your eyes rolled blindly in your head, but something nagged at you before the grasping tendrils of sleep finally pulled you under - surely two drinks hadn't got you this messed up?

***

You let out a scream, more from the shock than any real pain. Your hair is plastered to your face and icy rivulets of water carve their way down inside your pajamas, sticking them to your skin and exacerbating the cold. It feels like white-hot blades striking at you. Your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you look around; an unfamiliar brick room, dark apart from a bare bulb that dangles right in front of your eyes, blinding you. You try to lift your arms to wipe the water out of your eyes, and panic when they don't move, looking down to see shackles on your wrists, binding you to the chair that you were now inexplicably in. There was... the party? And then the barracks. What-?

"Sorry about the cold wake up call," says a voice, unfamiliar, smooth and loud, and so close by that you flinch and stifle another scream. "You do sound _real_ cute when you talk in your sleep though." There's a draught coming from somewhere, and you shiver so violently that you look blurry as you look down at your bare thighs. Curse these shorts. 

"Who are you?" Your voice sounds alien to you, so scared and lost when you had wanted to sound commanding. There's a dark chuckle, and you realise that this person is disguising their voice with some kind of synthesiser. 

"The real question is who are _you_?" The silken voice replies. It sounds closer now, and behind you. You try and swivel your head to look, but there's a chain across your throat, biting in with the cold of the steel. "And who do you work for?" 

A pair of leather gloved hands appear on front of you from behind, and you crane your head up to look at your captor; he's masked, and he roughly shoves your head to look back in front of yourself. He's holding a holovid now, and on it-

"- Joe?" Your bunkmate is tied up similarly to you, but alone. There seem to be wires running in and out of his clothing, and he looks exhausted.

"Ah, so you do know each other," the silken voice says. "Well, you can probably tell we've had a little play with the device already but, it wouldn't hurt to give you a demonstration..." He withdraws the holovid, and you hear the trademark _bleep_ of the volume turning up. "Ears open, girl. You see, every time you lie to me, I push this button here and-" Your captor is abruptly cut off by Joe's lengthy, blood-curdling scream, and you yank on your restraints.

"You fucking _psycho_ ," you holler, trying to drown out the sounds of your teammate being tortured. He stops screaming just as you collapse back against the chair, breathless from the choking of the chain. "What do you _want_?"

"What is Overwatch? Where are they based? Who is Gabriel Reyes?" 

"No fucking idea," you spit, and screw your eyes shut as tight as they'll go when Joe's screaming picks up again, for twice as long this time.

"Oh, sweetheart," says the voice, and you hear the telltale click of a gun's safety being switched off. The barrel of it presses against the back of your head, right at the brainstem, and you whimper involuntarily, biting your lip to stop the panic leaking out and betraying you. "You're gonna regret that answer. One last time; what is Overwatch? Where are they based? Who is Gabriel Reyes?"

You lean forward as far as your chains will allow, away from the cold, impassive barrel of the gun at your head and you call out, hoping he can hear you. "Joe, fuck, god, I am sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about-" You choke back a sob, never so scared in your life, and tilt your head forwards, waiting for the bullet to pierce your spine and switch off your mind forever. You sit, sobbing, and wait for the dark to claim you.

But it doesn't.

Shaking with everything from your breath to your limbs to your lower, quaking lip, you raise your head. 

The scene around you crumbles like the gym from earlier; an Athena hologram. You're still shaking as the gloved hands undo your chains, unclip your shackles, and you stand, spinning as best you can on shaky legs to face your captor. He removes the mask, revealing a shaggy goatee, dark skin, old and weathered scars. 

" _Reyes_?"

He holds his hands up in surrender, dropping the mask. "Yes, yes it's me. You passed, by the way." You snatch up your abandoned chain from the ground and pull it taut, the urge to throttle him with it rising like bile in your throat, breathing ragged and eyes wild.

"This was a test?"

"Yup, the last one," he admits, hands still raised. "Why do you think Blackwatch wasn't in the obstacle course? We like to take you by surprise. Joe's fine, by the way. He failed, and we recorded some screams to use in your test, same as the one who went before him, and the one who went before that recruit." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Wanna watch his tape?"

You pause for a minute, eyes flicking between Reyes' face and the empty torture chamber on the holovid at his feet, before you straighten up and drop the chain.

"Sure," you say, scooping your wet hair out of your eyes at last. "You're a bastard, you know that?"

Reyes laughs as he bends down to grab the holovid and find Joe's video. "I've heard worse. C'mere, we'll watch this and you can get changed and head back to bed, recruit." The covert ops commander hands you a towel as you sit back down.

"It's a big day tomorrow after all."

***

"You first."

"No fucking way, I'm too scared. You."

"Nuh-uh, it's gotta be you."

Such conversations had been carrying on all over the barracks since the crack of dawn; the recruits had awoken to find silver-wrapped parcels at the foot of their beds, a tragic facsimile of Christmas for the newly trained agents. These packages contained your new uniforms, the colours that would bedeck you in life and death in service to Overwatch - you'd wear them on your clothes, on your armour, and should you die in service, they'd bury you in them. Most recruits tore into their packages with abandon, screaming with glee or groaning with indignation at the picks. Medically-minded recruits found green scrubs and a name badge among their package, emblazoned with 'Overwatch Support'. Those who had excelled at R&D found a black jumpsuit with their name on the back in fluorescent yellow, and those headed to infantry got an Overwatch blue version of their recruit clothes - tshirts, dress uniform, a form to order custom armour, and a holster. Everyone got comms units.

You watched the array of colours as they emerged from the silver wrapping and got thrown over pajamas, tangled in bedhead. A lot of blue, a fair smattering of black and yellow, fewer green. Only one or two red. Even a couple of black shirts, recruits who would need to be retrained if they wanted to stay. You dreaded finding a black shirt once you opened yours. The mattress dips as someone takes a seat next to you. Joe. He gestures to your damp hair.

"You too, huh?" 

You nod. You'd figured not everyone was chosen for this special final task, given how well rested some of the other recruits looked. He lets out a long whistle, exasperated.

"They drugged the champagne, Reyes told me. I suppose you heard I didn't uh, do so well?" 

You nod again, eyes fixed on the silver package in your hands. You bite your lip. Joe's larger hand covers one of yours, and when he speaks again his voice is soft.

"Hey, I've not been woken up by your sleep-talking for the past month or so just to see you chicken out now. We open together okay? Count of three."

You pull your hand from his and slip it beneath the collar of your shirt, twisting the chain of the necklace you still wore, the one with the stone the colour of a spectral dragon, the colour of bad box hair dye. "Alright, let's do this. One..."

He picks up the count as you line up a thumbnail to tear the paper. "Two..."

Together this time. "Three!"

There is an almighty sound of rending paper as Joe demolishes his packaging, letting a set of bright green scrubs and a badge bearing his mugshot spill onto his lap.

" _Well_ , I guess I impressed Ziegler!" Joe says, his voice brighter than you've heard in days, perhaps relieved that it's finally over. "What'd you get?"

You don't answer, you just turn the packet to show him the sliver of a hole you've torn in the paper with your thumb.

"Oh... wow...."

Beneath your digit the colour showing through the aperture is a startling, unmistakable red.

Blackwatch red.

_Oh wow, indeed._


	18. Stratosphere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //You guys think this fic is gonna kill you? It'll kill me first, trust me.

You tear the rest of the silvery paper off the package, staring dumbly as the contents slipped out onto your lap. A red hoodie, a bunch of red tshirts, black sweatpants, a holster. The green power light on the comms unit blinks frantically up at you as though copying your racing pulse. Next to you Joe is already changing into his new scrubs and admiring himself in your hand mirror, but all you can do is look at the pool of red on your lap, looking for all the world like you'd been shot in the stomach. Felt like it too. You find the ID card nestled in the holster and turn it over; there's your face, your name, and in thick black letters 'COVERT OPERATIONS'. There it was in black and white. Your stomach turned, and you fought the urge to sprint to the metal toilet bowl at the end of the room to vomit. You swallow hard and turn to your companion.

"Joe, I can't do this."

He clucks at you like a mother hen, finally putting the mirror down so he can pick up his discarded recruit uniform. "Yes you can. You think those Blackwatch nutjobs pick just anyone? Just any, any-" He looks off into the middle distance for a minute, trying to find words, and then his face splits into a grin. "Any regular Joe?" 

You can't help but laugh at that and you shove your new uniform onto the bed so you can stand and hug him. "Y'know, I thought you were kind of a pompous asshole, but you're okay really." 

Joe is taken aback by the hug, and awkwardly pats your back. "I'm not sure if I should be offended or flattered by that. I'm gonna go with flattered though, so, thanks." You laugh again, a nervous bubbling reaction rather than genuine mirth, as you release him and pull your necklace from under your shirt to change into your new uniform as he goes off to rendezvous with some other people in green scrubs. The uniform feels warm and clean as you pull it on, and you aren't sorry to see your black recruit tshirt be thrown onto the ground, balled up; that thing still stank of smoke from the fire on the first night, and this new Blackwatch hoodie was soft and fleecy on the inside. Hardly the kind of creature comforts you expected from a covert ops division, but oh well, you weren't one to complain. The orange-black-and-white Blackwatch logo stands out against the red. It feels heavy, despite it being just cloth; you wonder if anyone else in red feels the same way. Your hand goes back to the green stone around your neck, rubbing it with a thumb like a worry stone before tucking it back under your clothes, letting it nestle against your heart, letting it echo your pulse back at you. 

You wonder if he would have been proud of you.

The double doors at the end of the barracks open with a creak and a rattle, revealing Doctor Ziegler in her usual lab coat, smiling beatifically. The new medical agents in their green scrubs cheer when they spot her and she beckons them over, seemingly talking them through some stuff before she takes them with her. Joe turns back to you and you wave, genuinely happy that he was happy. It had already been a weird morning. 

Casting your gaze about the room as you sit to lace your feet into new combat boots, and you notice that it already seemed much, _much_ emptier even though it was only the medical recruits who were gone. People started to filter towards the centre of the room, drawing closer together, as though pulled by some anxious gravity. You finish lacing your boots.

You rise to join them.

***

"Any threes?"

"Nah, go fish."

You and the other three new Blackwatch recruits were reduced to card games. Everyone else had been collected what seemed like hours ago; the engineers had disappeared off with a disgruntled looking Torbjorn, and Strike-Commander Morrison had come down for the infantry himself, to much whooping and saluting. You'd avoided Morrison like the plague though, awkwardly hoping he wouldn't remember that you punched him in the face only 24 hours before.

There was still no sign of anyone from Blackwatch. You shuffle the cards around in your hand. 

"Hey, you got a queen?" you ask the girl on your right. She shakes her head, sending her dark braids trembling; you recognise her from lunch the day before, she'd suggested that Overwatch kept zomnics in the basement to throw failed recruits to. She was odd, twitchy and almost always silent, but you didn't mind so much. You suppose Blackwatch didn't attract the most normal of people. After all, they had a paranoid cyborg, an omnic who spent over a year posing as a butler, possibly the most bitter adult you'd ever met, and of course -

"Well, howdy, Blackwatch agents. Hope I didn't keep y'all waitin' too long."

\- the cowboy.

Cards are thrown down in a flurry of plastic and the four of you jump to your feet and hurriedly salute, but McCree waves to indicate you should be at ease, crosses from the open doorway to your gathering in the middle of the barracks. He kicks the bedside table around a little and settles himself atop it, thighs spread as though he's straddling a horse rather than a hunk of metal. You scoff back a snort of laughter; seems the cowboy thing didn't start and end at the spur on his gun. McCree stretches, puts his hands behind his head, and your eyes linger on the way his biceps stretch the short sleeves of his tshirt as he does so. Blinking hard to drag yourself out of your reverie, you mentally scold yourself for even this momentary indulgence; what was it with you and people in charge of you? You make a mental note to talk to someone about that. Anonymously. For now, you had to focus on whatever it was the cowboy was here to say.

"So, y'all've been picked for covert ops, or Blackwatch as we're known around here. That means you're the best of the best, and we are happy to have you." He throws a wink at the nearest recruit, a tall guy with thick dreaded hair, who raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "There'll be plenty of time for y'all to learn what makes each of you the best, because unlike everyone else, you get another round of training." You can't help the quiet groan that escapes you at the mention of yet more training, and you rub a temple with your fingertips. McCree chuckles.

"Sorry, pumpkin, but the best of the best has gotta keep gettin' better. I think that's what Reyes said anyway," the cowboy replies, before hauling himself to his feet and motioning for the four of you to follow. "Speaking of him, I'll take y'all to meet the old man now. I'm sure he'll have somethin' to say. Always does."

You follow him and his jangling spurs out into the garden beyond, cleared seemingly overnight of the obstacle course and gun-toting robots, squinting in the overly bright light. You are led through a series of endless twisting hallways, hissing doors, and up a few flights of stairs before McCree finds the right elevator and you all cram into it. Jostled uncomfortably in with the rest of the newly minted agents, you exchange awkward smiles until the elevator finally rattles to a halt and McCree leads you out, talking the whole while.

"'Kay, so, it's pretty much a dorm situation up here, as you can see there's the bedrooms that way, kitchen down that end, and, being a private section, we also get our own gym and rec room, so, that's pretty sweet," he says, pointing briefly to each location. "I'll show you to your rooms before Reyes shows up, this way."

The lights overhead clack on as you move down the hall, sensing the movement underneath them. There's doors each side of the hall, five with initials next to the lock and four without; GS, MW, JM, GR, K. McCree calls your name and points to the empty door between JM and MW. "You're in there, right between me and Maxima," He throws another wink in your direction and you wonder if it's some kind of nervous tic. "Jason-" The guy with the dreads. "You're across the hall." Jason dutifully lines up next to the door marked GS, which is right opposite yours. "Chenoa, next to Kenshin-" The quiet girl with the dark braids. The final recruit, a guy named Mike, is next to her. "Alright, y'all go ahead and dump your stuff, and Reyes'll be around in a little while to tell y'all what you're doin' next cause, t'be honest, I have no clue." McCree tips his hat at the four of you and clicks his tongue before spinning on his heel to leave. The spurs jangle off into the distance and Jason kisses his teeth.

"I'm still not used to this cowboy thing," he says to no one in particular, before turning and tapping his ID card against the lock on his door; the door whooshes upwards immediately, with Athena's cool voice welcoming him by name to his new room. You smirk and silently agree, before turning and entering your own new room. Athena greets you by name, and you hear her voice echo down the hall as Chenoa and Mike go into their rooms too. 

It was simple, dorm-like as McCree had said. A double bed, which surprised you, a desk, a wardrobe. Your own bathroom, which you immediately checked out, and found an Athena screen that would let you access the internet or change the temperature and stuff in your room. It reminds you of a fancy hotel rather than a barracks, for which you're almost grateful. The room was bare though, and you had precious few possessions to unpack, so you set to it. Your hands still from their flurry of unpacking and folding and hanging as they brush against something soft in your bag. The faint smile on your face fades as you pull out what remains of Genji's feather, half bald now but still soft when you run the tip of it down your cheek. You sigh and twirl it back and forth, undecided on what to do with it. You could just throw it out, you supposed-

The door opens.

You jump to your feet as Reyes steps into the room, saluting awkwardly.

"You don't have to do that every time I enter a room, agent," he says, that omnipresent smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm not Morrison, I don't need the stick up my ass polished by every Overwatch agent I pass." You press your lips together to avoid laughing, still shaken from the sudden intrusion. Reyes apparently senses this, because he doesn't advance any further than the doorway. "Don't worry, this is a one time thing, it's not like I'm gonna be coming in and out of your rooms whenever I want. Same goes for the rets of you; your card gives you access to the elevator and your room, that's it." He shrugs and you slowly nod your understanding. Without further ado, Reyes pulls out a bright orange pill bottle and shakes one into his hand.

"Looks like you're last up," he says cryptically as he hands you the pill, which you squint at suspiciously. No flashing lights or beeping trackers this time it seems.

"Okay, you got me," you say, rolling the little capsule over in your palm. "What is it?" Reyes rubs the back of his neck and an almost painful look of awkwardness passes over his face. 

"It's to get rid of the tracker," he admits between almost-gritted teeth. "It's gotta detach from your stomach and, ah, pass, if you will. I'm not gonna lie, you're in for a rough afternoon." He flashes you a grin as he taps the door lock to exit, even as he takes in your panicked face. "Hey, we all had to do it. See you in a couple hours, agent. Drink plenty of fluids and all that."

Glaring at the closed door as it drops behind him, you place the pill on your tongue and swallow it dry, immediately recoiling as the hard lump of it forces its way down your throat. 

Surely it can't get worse than that.

***

Hours later, drenched in a fine sheen of sweat, with tangled hair and a scowl that barely showed the magnitude of the stomach cramps that had only just passed, you emerge from your room, the hood of your Blackwatch hoodie pulled up and tightened to block out the light. Reyes wasn't wrong; that was _rough_. Weirdly enough, or maybe not, it had just made you hungry, so now you were hoping someone was in the kitchen that you could get sympathy snacks from. 

Movement across the hall draws your eye; the door opposite yours, the one marked GS, whooshes upwards, and you stop in your surprise to greet your new bunk-mate. Recognising him as the cyborg that McCree and Kenshin had told you about, you grin and give a little wave, hoping you don't look as awful as you feel.

"Hey!"

His head whips up to face you, and you try and fathom out what kind of facial expression is behind that impassive metal mask. Your smile falters with the crack of plastic as his gloveless metal fingers tighten on his ID card, which he stashes in his pocket abnormally quickly. You look closer, the beginnings of a frown twisting your brow, and you can see that he's shaking a little. His voice is quiet and strained behind the mechanical tone of it when he speaks. 

".... No."

You raise an eyebrow, concerned and confused in equal measure. "What, surprised to see me? You did almost break my neck by jumping on me like that yesterday after all." When he doesn't even give a polite half-hearted laugh your face relaxes and you move towards him, hand outstretched to take his upper arm. You barely brush it, finding it soft and warm and human beneath his own jacket, before he jerks back like you burned him. "Hey, are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

He brutally cuts you off, voice as strained and taut as elastic. "It's fine. I have to go."

You pull your arm back to let him pass, watching after him as he hurries off in the direction of what you assume is Reyes' office from the shiny plaque on the door. Your stomach rumbles impatiently, and you comply, padding into the kitchen on bare feet. Jason is already here, eating cereal in the corner, and McCree and Maxima are going over some blueprints on the table, although the cowboy seems more interested in twining his fingers in her short, multicoloured hair. All three look up and murmur greetings as you enter, and you wave again. 

"You look as bad as I feel," grumbles Jason around his mouthful of Cheerios, and you roll your eyes.

"Way to charm a lady," you say, but a smirk tells him that you're joking as you stick your head in the fridge. "Don't forget, I know where you sleep."

"Don't think you'll be doing too much of that later," says McCree from behind you. "Reyes seems to have a whole day _and_ night of training, y'know, to ease you in." You groan as you emerge with a carton of orange juice that you tip straight into your mouth. Jason gives you a scoff of disgust, but you open one eye and raise that eyebrow; there was nothing that could make you feel judged after that afternoon of hell. You think you'd rather have kept the tracker. 

"Why though?" You complain as you wipe your mouth with the back of a hand. "What can they teach us that we didn't already learn in basic?"

A new voice from the hallway joins the conversation, and you start at the familiarity.

"Oh man, you're going to wish you hadn't asked that," Kenshin says, and you can tell that there's what passes for a smile on an omnic in that voice as he takes in the sight of you, bedhead and all. Your face breaks into a grin as he opens his arms and you shuffle as fast as you can to give the oldest friend you had here a hug. His voice is quieter now, but you hear him loud and clear as you pull back. "I told you I was rooting for you, didn't I?" You nod enthusiastically, blinking back tears that prick at the corners of your eyes. You return to the OJ carton gratefully.

"Yeah, I guess you did," you say, sniffing back the tears you couldn't quite explain. "Now what brings you to the kitchen? I swear you don't have to eat."

Kenshin whirs in that way that you know is a chuckle. "Reyes sent me. I've got the details about your training later, but first you've gotta come with me to engineering. All the new agents, that is." Kenshin turns to leave, but nobody follows just yet.

Jason pipes up, clattering his spoon against his bowl. "How come?"

Kenshin looks back over his shoulder, glowing blue eyes brighter than usual. 

"To get fitted for your high-altitude suits, obviously."

***

_Meanwhile, Reyes' office._

_Heart beating too fast again, like when they woke me up with all these new parts all over again, the part of my arm that she touched is on fire. She's across the goddamn hall, how am I supposed to stop her finding anything out, I could rip out Reyes' throat right now, there's no way he could stop me..._

"What were you _thinking_?"

_Reyes is perched on the edge of his desk, his well-meaning teacher routine. He bites thoughtfully on his bottom lip for a moment, and then shrugs. I long to slam a fist through his smug face, but I know that almost definitely won't help matters. Almost._

"I was thinking, Shimada, that we need more close combatants in this unit. You refuse to draw that damn katana, and just Kenshin on his own isn't enough. You saw the way she took down Morrison, it was impressive-"

"Of _course_ she's impressive Reyes, who the hell do you think taught her to throw a punch?"

_That shuts him up for a minute. The rage is subsiding and I am left feeling empty, trembling as though the gaping hole left by my anger is full of ice, razor sharp icicles dripping freezing rivulets into my chest cavity. I reach up, take off the faceplate and visor with a little decompression hiss._

"You should see what engineering is cooking up for her anyway," Reyes continues as though the outburst never happened. "Aside from their helo-suits obviously they'll need weapons and whatnot." He fixes Genji's bare face with an unflinching stare. The cyborg turns his faceplate over in his hands, catches his own reflection in the shiny surface, closes his eyes.

"Genji, look... We can't keep this secret forever but just, until after training, yeah? Break it to her gently, we don't want our brawler running for the hills."

_I swallow and it hurts, muscles bumping up against metal, gears and rubber and fans. Reyes looks at me expectantly, then at his watch - of course, the training. I'm making him late, both of us late. As if on cue, Kenshin knocks on the door._

"Everyone else is ready to go, are you coming Commander?"

_Reyes nods, holds out a hand to help me to my feet. I slide the mask back on, grateful for the cover from what must be a wrecked face, creased and contorted with worry and rage and a thousand-thousand other things._

"Sure, Kenshin. Genji, are you coming?"

_The question is loaded. My answer to this also answers the one I left hanging in the air between us. The red lights on my visor blink on as I straighten up to follow._

"Yeah. I think I could do that."

***

"Alright fresh meat, your new training is gonna consist of a lot of stuff coming at you really fuckin' fast. Combat, espionage, interrogation, advanced weapons, transport, disguise, all kinds of crap."

Reyes talks quickly and your head spins trying to take it all in as he marches you through the hangar. You'd been informed that you were checking out the dropships, but that didn't explain why you'd all had to be suited up for high-altitude right _now_. Although you were starting to have an inkling, especially since everyone else was suited up too, burdened with a heavy backpack, and paired up with a new agent. Jason got Maxima, Chenoa was with McCree, Mike got Kenshin, and you were paired with the grumpy cyborg. He said nothing to you when you were left with him as your partner, merely grunted, and a bolt of panic shot through you that maybe you'd offended him earlier. No time to worry about that now though, not when Reyes was herding you onto the hangar floor and shouting over the noise. 

"Overwatch dropships are slow, loud, and huge; they go slow and low to the ground to drop troops and get boots straight on the ground and fighting straight away," Reyes yells, gesturing broadly at the huge, black behemoth of a ship at the very front of the hangar. You'd seen it before, hanging over Hanamura with the engines boring into your skull like drills. Now it sat, hulking and brooding like some sleeping beast, swarming with mechanics cleaning and maintaining. Reyes continues his speech. "Blackwatch dropships, on the other hand, fly higher, fly faster, and are much smaller." He's led you right to the door of one and he's right, it is smaller, but sleeker. Built for speed and blacker than the night, it took your breath away. Chenoa had piped up asking questions about the science of its ascent and speed, but you were distracted by the cyborg at your side; he seemed to be staring off in the direction of the huge Overwatch dropship.

You reach out and tentatively touch his shoulder, the one you knew to be metal. "Hey, uh, what's... up?" 

Your hesitation came from the way his human hand, encased in his high altitude suit, came up and so easily cradled your hand on his shoulder, covering it as though it was the most natural thing in the world. In a way, it felt it. Your lips parted slightly, and you twitched your fingers involuntarily, trying to intertwine your fingers with his. The movement startled him, and he jumped away from you like you'd shocked him, making you take a step back on surprise too. You were like magnets, but the ones that never aligned the right way, bouncing away and repelling as if it were second nature. 

"Nothing," he said, but his voice was breathless and panicked almost. "Look, they're boarding the ship, c'mon."

He pushed past you, leaving you to follow in his wake into the dropship; the Blackwatch ship was narrow on the inside, everything black even the windows. You let Reyes guide you to a seat and you pull the rollercoaster-harness belt down over your shoulders, snap it into place. _How fast was this thing gonna go?_

Reyes pulls himself up to his full height and clears his throat to draw attention. "I hope you're comfortable, because you're gonna be pinned to those seats. Everyone got their comms units on?" He waits for the mumbled sound of assent before continuing. "Alright, hold on tight, agents. I leave you in your pilot's capable hands." As though on cue, an Athena screen at the front of the ship lights up and her cool tones emanate forth, reverberating a little in the cramped space.

"Good afternoon, Commander Reyes," she says, and there's that subtle hint of amusement you always seem to notice in her voice. "Ready to fly as soon as you are off the ship." Reyes rolls his eyes at that and makes for the door, giving you one last word of advice.

"If any of you ate this morning, I would hope it tastes as good on the way back up. Good luck."

He walks briskly from the ship, and it seems like mere moments before there is a rumble somewhere beneath you and the ship swings to face the open wall of the hangar, the bright blue sky beyond beckoning and cloudless. You are forced sideways in your seat against the cyborg as the acceleration picks up and then, without warning or preamble, all the breath is knocked from you as the ship careens _up_ , seemingly endlessly. To your left somewhere Chenoa screams aloud, but you can't even manage that, the atmosphere itself having reached down your throat and stolen your voice from your lungs with nebulous fingers. You hear the blood rush past your ears, too fast to discern the individual beats of your racing heart as the ship finally levels out. The Athena screen shows that you're at 51,000 feet and going faster than even makes sense to you. As if sensing your nerves, Athena switches the display to one of the distant ground racing past, thousands of feet below. Somehow, this doesn't help.

The ship banks sharply, and you finally find your voice with a high, pained gasp. The comms units all around the ship blare to life simultaneously with a chorus of beeps and the AI answers, letting Reyes' voice echo around the cabin.

"Remember what I said about Overwatch dropships getting low to the ground so troops can jump out? Blackwatch isn't afforded such a luxury; our aim is getting you in and out of areas as fast as possible, and landing a huge jet is not fast. So..."

Like a well practiced skit, Athena switches her screen to show that the ship has slowed down, just enough. It dawns on you suddenly why the fully fledged agents are stapped into backpacks that weren't backpacks at all.

"The only way back to the ground is the direct route. Grab your partners and let's see how you do."

As if to drive Reyes' message home the back door of the ship opens, folding downwards like a gaping maw of a mouth that threatens to swallow you whole and fling you out into the sky. Your belt releases and you cling to your partner on instinct; surely all that metal weighing him down would be enough to stop you getting sucked out into the great blue beyond. His arm loops around your waist, just like it had done on your first night after the fire, and he pulls you close. Your own face looks back at you, distorted, from the shiny metal of his face plate, and you can see beneath the mask of your helo-suit you are flushed and anxious-looking, all wide eyes and bitten lips. Athena calls for you all to go and you all charge forward as one, with you and your partner bringing up the rear but then-

You dig your heels in, hard, bringing both of you to a screeching halt.

"Woah, what the fuck?" your partner says, and even in your panic there's something familiar about that voice, about the way he cradles you rather than grips you. You turn fully around to face that impassive metal mask.

"I-I-I-" you begin, shaking your head as you cling to his forearms to stop yourself falling. "It's a long way down!" Behind you, Athena is urging you to jump and you can barely hear Reyes yelling in your earpiece about how he won't be scraping the bits of you off the Rock when you hit it. Your partner takes your hands in his, and steps back a little, turning you away from the opening.

"It's okay," he insists, and you scrutinise that voice, trying to figure out what you think you know. "I'll catch you."

Your brows furrow.

"What do you mean you'll-"

The rest of your sentence is lost in a scream as, with a release of his fingers and a gentle push, your cyborg companion sends you wheeling out into the sky. 

You're grateful for the suit because you're sure the air screaming past you would whip the flesh from your bones, and your breath is lost to you once again as you tumble head over heels through the blue nothingness all around, robbing you of your screams. There's nothing but the sound of the wind and the rapidly rising figures of the other agents and then you are caught, your momentum captured by your partner. Breathless, with fear and adrenaline both, you wrap your arms around him and bury your head against his shoulder as best you can in your helmet, trying to form some semblance of a thanks over the roaring wind. He tilts the pair of you gently downwards, catches you up to the others.

"Nice of you to join us!" calls someone, it sounds like Maxima, and you finally manage a shaky laugh as you stretch out and link hands with your partner and the person on your right. 

"Alright, we're at 8000!" Maxima calls, looking at the rapidly decreasing numbers on her altimeter. You can see the holographic orange letters swirling madly towards zero, towards hitting the ground at 120 miles an hour and having your bones picked at by seagulls. You can feel your breakfast of juice swishing uncomfortably in your stomach and pray that you don't paint the inside of your helmet a fetching neon orange. "16 seconds to grab your dancing partner and get that chute open! One pair at a time! McCree!"

You turn as best you can to cling to your partner as McCree and Chenoa seemingly rocket upwards, the deceleration of their chute opening snatching them from view. Maxima and Jason were next, and Kenshin eventually wrangles a squalling Mike into position long enough to pull his chute. Now it is just you, and your partner, freewheeling through space. The altimeter on his wrist beeps alarmingly and you realise he can't pull the cord with you pressed against him. You lean back, wrap your legs around his waist, find the cord with trembling fingers and pull, as hard as your adrenaline-numb fingers will let you.

There is a tense, horrific moment as the bundle of the chute explodes upwards into the sky, and then the fabric billows above you and you have a sensation of being a fish on a line, caught and dangling as it slows your fall. With a gasp you collapse back against your partner, arms and legs both around him as he reaches awkwardly for the handles to control your descent. 

"Fuck!" You finally manage to gasp out, and he chuckles even as you shake with trepidation, with exhilaration. 

"Language," he admonishes, but there's humour in his voice and your stomach flip-flops at that. You put it down to the thrill of the fall. "Now hang on; I'll get us down, then you can let go."

You nod, but acknowledge that feeling in the pit of your stomach that means just one thing.

Part of you doesn't want to let go, at all.

***

The eight of you meet on the ground, in a field not too far from the Watchpoint; Reyes was sending a car to pick you up any minute. McCree had fished a flask of what smelled and tasted like pure rubbing alcohol from somewhere, and you weren't the only one to gag when taking a celebratory shot of whatever it was. McCree laughs at that, and then regards you thoughtfully, before offering the drink to your flight partner, who declines with a wave of his hand.

"Y'know," McCree says, and there's a playful glint in his brown eyes. "You two looked _awful_ cosy up there. Almost like ya knew each other, right Maxima?" The Canadian raises an eyebrow, shrugs one shoulder, unwilling to play along with McCree's games. He scoffs at her. "Don't worry, darlin, I know I'm right. Whaddya have to say to that Shi-" He jabs a finger at the cyborg, but stops himself, eyes going wide for a moment and shoulders sagging, before bouncing back to normal. His eyes flick to you and then back. It was quicker than a blink, but you caught it. "Uh.... Shi... shithead?" The insult is stammered out and definitely doesn't sound like what he was going to say, but you laugh along with the rest of the group.

There is little time to ask McCree what exactly he's on about because a black-garbed agent is yelling from the edge of the field, waiting next to a sleek black van. You gather your thoughts and your things and make for the car, but first.

"Hey, uh, thanks," you say to your partner as he bends to collect his backpack. "For keeping me safe up there I mean." He nods as he straightens up, face looking away from you. Feeling daring, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, feeling the vibration as somewhere in his metallic chest fans kick into high gear. It sounds like he could catch fire any minute. Underneath it all, for just a second, you're sure you hear the _thump-thump-thump_ of a racing human heart before you let him go and continue on your way.

It's not until you realise that your shoulders are chilled from the touch of cooled metal that you realise he hugged you back.

_Maybe he's not so grumpy after all._

By the time you catch up to the van everyone else is strapped in and chatting loudly over one another, discussing what they were going to do when they got back. Everyone looked a little disheveled, but spirits were high, partly due to the influence of the actual spirits McCree had been passing around. 

"Anyone wanna hit the gym? Movie in the rec room? I'll make popcorn," McCree offers, pointing around at everyone before landing on you and your cyborg friend right behind you. "You two in?" You open your mouth to agree, but before you can speak the cyborg pipes up. 

"I'm taking the new agents to the shooting range," he says, stepping into the van as you sit down. "Reyes' orders." There's a collective groan from the other newbies.

"You mean throwing us out of a plane wasn't the end of the training for today?" Chenoa complains, looking at your companion with wide, pleading eyes. He shakes his head and Chenoa slumps down in her seat, a scowl marring her pretty face. "This had better be one hell of a shooting range."

Next to you, the cyborg's shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. "I can't guarantee it'll be as good as that was, but I'll do my best to make what is basically a routine training exercise somewhat unforgettable."

***

_Well, he wasn't wrong._

It did turn out to be a mostly forgettable standard shooting range. The only difference was the amount of weapons you were allowed to try out now; you'd already had a go with a bunch of throwing knives (the wall was now full of slash marks entirely too far away from the target), one of the chunky shotguns that were apparently Reyes' specialty (how he fired them one-handed you didn't know), and a pair of SMGs (more fun than you expected, even if the comparatively smaller recoil nearly knocked you on your ass the first time). Mike had left earlier, after actually being knocked on his ass by a minigun. Right now you and Jason were having a competition to see who could hit the target closest to the heart with basic pistols, while off to your right Chenoa was showing unerring skill with a bow and arrow. The fluid way she notched, drew, and fired arrows in seemingly one breath reminded you bitterly of Hanzo, and a pit of empty, impotent rage roiled in your stomach at the thought of him. You'd kept your mind off of his face in the half-light that night, the gleaming quicksilver edge of his sword, for quite a while now. You didn't plan to start overthinking it again now.

"Where's the boss, anyway?" you ask Jason. He shrugs.

"He was out in the hall, on comms to the cowboy I think," he replies, dropping his arms to reload his weapon. "Freaking out about something. Sounded like girl trouble."

You assume this last part is a joke and snort with laughter, firing a bullet straight through the forehead of the target. "Mmhmm, sure, and pigs will fly and you're gonna win this shooting contest."

Jason smirks at that. "We'll see, agent."

Your contest is cut short by the entrance of your instructor, the cyborg who you just couldn't seem to escape. Rather than a projectile, he carried a wakizashi, a short sword that you remembered the name of from somewhere deep in your brain. Not for the first time, you regretted not learning more Japanese. 

"Agents," the cyborg says, his voice amplified by the small space. "I have a challenge for you." He holds the sword aloft and twirls it experimentally. "I want you to try and hit me with a projectile." The three of you shoot concerned glances at each other, but even as you hesitate, the cyborg is rearranging the room so that he can stand in front of the targets, arms wide. You can hear a smile in his voice when he speaks again, and your heart picks up speed for some reason. What did it know that you didn't? "I mean it. Deflection training; according to some of the veterans, we discovered that quite a lot of omnics can deflect bullets so, we're training you for that. Just in case." He shrugs. "I've never seen one do it, but apparently it's true so, go pick a gun or something and _hit me_." 

There is a moment, a beat, of tense hesitation before the three of you new agents storm for the weapons lockers. You grab another pistol, spare magazines, and then your eyes alight upon some shurikens, wicked sharp and glinting in the locker. You tuck them, clinking, into your pocket. Worst comes to worst, you knew you weren't half bad with those. Holstering the second pistol, you turn back to face your instructor.

He had dispensed with his ever-present hoodie, and beneath wore a black tank top, tight and moulded to his chest. Your eyes travel up his metal arm, look closely at the slightly reddened flesh where the metal met skin, and greedily drank in the sight of thin black fabric stretched over the muscles of his left side. His skin is completely smothered in scarring, thin white lines that criss-cross like constellations, and his left forearm and hand are covered in a bandage. He moves, and your tongue peeks out to taste your lip when you take in the way his bicep flexes beneath that scarred skin. He looks up then, face obscured by the mask still, but you can feel his eyes on you, followed by the burning of your flushed cheeks as you look away.

You line up, Chenoa then Jason, then you. The senior agent speaks again.

"Bow, huh? Interesting choice. Can't say I enjoy it, but it's interesting." He dusts himself off and shifts his grip on his weapon. "You get three chances each, and as soon as you hit me you are free to go. I hear McCree's made popcorn."

Chenoa nods, wets her lips, narrows her eyes in concentration. The muscles in her back ripple below her red shirt as she raises the bow, nocks an arrow, draws the string back as far as the limited space will allow. You swear even the clock stops ticking as the room holds its breath.

It is over in seconds. She fires, there is a blur of silver and a flash of green, and the arrow is knocked out of the air before your very eyes, embedding itself in the floor feet away from its target in the agent's heart. Chenoa actually gasps aloud before hurriedly firing another arrow to the same result. She lets the bow hang limply at her side.

"How are you-"

"I told you, deflection training," replies the older agent, and he sounds almost bored, his voice languid as his movements. "Come on, you've got one more try." 

The raven-haired girl lifts her bow one last time, aiming for his heart once more, nocks an arrow, draws the bowstring.

At the last second, she switches her aim to his head, and the arrow sails, spiralling through the air, death with a feathered fletching.

There's a clink as the wakizashi switches its trajectory to meet the arrow in front of the faceless metal mask, sends it spinning over your heads and into the back wall with a dull thud. Chenoa's mouth hangs open, disbelieving.

"Three strikes, and you're out? I believe that's the saying," says the cyborg, and you press your lips together to quell the smirk that threatens to emerge there at the sheer enjoyment in his voice. Chenoa storms to the weapons locker to return her bow and the three remaining people on the shooting range listen to her annoyed stomping footsteps as she heads for the Blackwatch elevator. Jason chuckles and takes aim with his chosen weapon; a pistol, exactly the same as the one in your holster. _Dammit, I knew I should have picked something else_.

"You're not faster than a bullet," Jason declares, voice full of the swellings of a competition. The senior agent opposite twirls the wakizashi like a baton.

"Why don't we find out?"

Jason clicks his neck, once, twice, never lowering his arms, and then stares down the sights. He inhales, loudly, and as he exhales the muscles of his arms twitch and he squeezes the trigger. 

There's a scream.

The cyborg is still standing, the wakizashi raised and completely undented by the fact it was just hit by a bullet, but Jason collapses, clutching his leg, agony etched into the contorted lines of his face.

"My fucking _foot_! You shot me in the foot!" 

The cyborg is scrambling to lift the howling agent, who is steadily looking more and more ashen in the face, hauling him to one foot by looping Jason's arm over his shoulders. The faceplate fixes you with that dead, red stare.

"You wait here," he commands, and with that voice you feel that you have suddenly grown roots and wouldn't move even if threatened. "I'm going to take this one to the med bay. Every recruitment cycle, I swear..."

You watch as they leave, and over the hiss of the door you're sure you hear the cyborg say one last thing, that brings a smattering of laughter from your shocked, open mouth.

"I mean, technically, you shot yourself in the foot."

***

_Thunk._

Your third shuriken embedded itself just shy of the center of the target, pinning it to the wall. The other two had gone just wide, sticking in the wall and making Athena complain about property damage. You half-heartedly punched the air and let out a tiny, slightly sarcastic 'woo' in celebration. You had been sat on the floor for the last twenty minutes, waiting for the cyborg to come back. Maybe he had forgotten? Maybe Reyes found out he shot a new agent in the foot and had killed him? Who knows?

Your idle wonderings were answered merely seconds later when the door hisses open and you leap to your feet respectfully, greeted by the image of a rather disheveled looking cyborg; there was blood on his clothes, and the black hair that showed above his all-encompassing mask was sticking in every direction. _Like someone's been running their fingers through it,_ was your immediate thought, followed unexpectedly by _Lucky them_. You shudder at the direction of your train of thought, surprise rather than disgust. A train that can be caught again later, you decide. 

The cyborg is inspecting your attempts at hitting the target, leaning close to the shurikens stuck in the wall. "Hm. Nice choice." He flexes his wrist then, the metal one, and three of the deadly stars spin between his fingers, and you part your lips with a little noise of surprise. He cocks his head to the side, and somehow you know that under that faceplate he's grinning. "Want to try with these? They are very well balanced, and sharper." You nod and he hands them over, with a murmured warning to be careful. You weigh one in your hand, and goosebumps rush against your skin as you feel that laser-like gaze wash over you, top to toe.

You line yourself up with one of the empty targets, thinking back to your lesson on throwing these things with Genji. You manage to fight your way past the memory of his hands on yours, the warmth of his smile and his skin, and remember how to align your thumb and aim from your elbow. 

"You don't want to deflect these?" you say before you throw, breaking the delicate silence. He's standing just behind you and off to one side now, regarding you with crossed arms and a fingertip against his chin, tap-tap-tapping. 

"No, I am merely observing," he says, and his voice is so close and quiet that your heart all but stops. There are soft, cat-like footsteps and then he is directly behind you, the metal hand coming into your peripheral vision as he reaches out to adjust your grip. Metal fingers encircle your wrist, twist gently. "There... Now try." 

He lets go.

The star lodges in the paper target, sends it fluttering back and then pins it. You let out the breath that had stuck in your throat when he touched you.

"Good!" The cyborg says brightly as you start lining up the next one. "You've done this before?"

It is phrased like a question, although you're sure your admittedly amateur ability speaks for itself. "Yeah, I knew someone who taught me." The second shuriken lodges itself in the wall at the same second a lump lodges itself in your throat, and you will yourself not to cry in front of this total stranger. "A long time ago." Or maybe it just feels that way.

The cyborg steps a little further back, you hear him move, and you take even longer with the third one, deliberately angling your face away from his probing gaze, although you're sure he can see right through you. The tears are definitely there now, a blurry tide at the bottom edge of your vision. _Fuck this._

"What was he like?"

You stiffen, for just a second. "He was... special. To me. Hang on," you cut yourself off. "I never said _he_ -"

"What happened? To him? To you?" 

You are sure the questions are well meaning, but you feel like you're being interrogated under a bucket of ice water again. You lower your throwing arm, close your fingers gently over the metal weapon. Not gently enough it seems, as the point dig red furrows into your palm and you hiss in pain, like a cat. You drop it. Behind you there is a click and clank of mechanical parts, perhaps of the cyborg bending down to help, but you shake your head, crouching down to retrieve the shuriken. "I've got it, don't worry. Look, I- I don't want to talk about it, I don't even know your na-"

"Did you love him?"

The question is almost whispered, a throaty rasp that catches you off guard. Vaguely, subconsciously, you notice that the voice has lost its usual mechanical tone, but you focus on staying upright instead of letting the question knock you on your ass from your crouched position. You freeze like that, all breath knocked from your lungs as though he'd just thrown you out of a plane for the second time that day. Seconds tick past, agonisingly slowly, and there's a chirrup from Athena as the clock strikes midnight. Witching hour. Anything's possible. The cyborg clears his throat.

"Did you hear me? I asked you," he pauses, and you swear you hear him swallow as you straighten up, facing that target with your weapons emerging from it, stabbed in almost accusingly. "Did you love him?" You are shaking, head twisted painfully away from him so you don't scream at him. _How dare he? Who the fuck was he to ask?_

"Did you hear _me_?" You ask, and the tremble in your voice belies your suppressed anger, bubbling beneath the surface of your skin like magma, ready to erupt. You turn stiffly. "I said I don't want to ta-" 

Your anger, your sentence, your motivation. They all die on your lips.

The first thing you see is the mask, that impassive metal faceplate and glowing visor. 

The next thing you notice is that it is in one of his hands, hanging at his side. Your eyes, traitorous and eager, flick up to take in his face, greedy as a man dying of thirst, before you can force them to stop, before you can get your hopes up.

Your mouth goes dry, and a choked sob forces its way through your parted lips before your hands fly up to muffle it, wrapping around your lower face like a facsimile of the faceplate he has just discarded on the floor. 

Scarred and shaken it may be, weathered and older looking, marred by the criss-cross of white scars and a shadow of stubble, you know that face under its scars.

After all, he got that first one through his eyebrow defending you.

He speaks, and the voice is familiar, as comfortable as hot bathwater, as your own bed. "I-"

That is all you need; that sound is like coming home. On shaking legs, you take a tentative step forward, towards him, towards the phantasm you are sure your brain has conjured. You are sure the next step will shatter the illusion; you will awaken, you're convinced, in your bed at Hanamura, spend your day polishing glassware and avoiding Yuuto's grabbing hands. 

Your foot lands. Nothing changes. You do not wake up.

The roar of blood in your ears is not enough to drown out his voice; you are attuned to it now, like a bloodhound catching a scent.

"I- Can't. Not like this."

You stop, halfway through a step and your hands stretch out, desperate to touch him, to confirm that he is real. Questions bubble up inside your brain, jostling for space on the tip of your tongue, drip like poison and honey from your mouth. How and why and who and when and why-why-why. 

"I'm sorry."

His apology is strangled, strained and pained, and his eyes are screwed almost shut, like he's pushing a weight. Pushing you away. You barely have time to register this on top of _everything else_ , but then he is running, faster than you've ever seen, the sparrow taking flight, and he is outside before you can react. Your knees turn to jelly, and you are on them in a second, the world rushing up to meet you. The ground is stable, strong. You stare at it between your hands, catching your breath as though you've run a marathon, and you feel the searing heat of tears on your cheeks at last. 

_Not like this._

His words echo within you, you echo them back, and you wrestle yourself back to your feet, adrenaline surging through your veins as fast as lightning. Your feet go without thought, without intention and you are following him out into the dark, the cold night air whipping your hair around you, clouding your vision in tendrils of your own creation. You turn, frantic, searching in the dark to no avail, your own heartbeat drowning out any sound but the wind.

Gathering as deep a breath as you can, you pray that you can find your voice somewhere at the bottom of your lungs, and when you do all you manage is a single word, screamed out into the darkness as though in agony and ecstasy all at once.

" _GENJI!_ "


	19. Ineffable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //life without a soul is awesome, I'm glad you asked.

Your voice reverberates back at you, repeating his name a thousand times over, affirming what you'd seen, reassuring you that you're not crazy. _Genji Genji Genji Genji Genjigenjigenjigenji!_ The darkness around you, thick and black and velvet, seems to become solid and bounce the sound back at you, taunting you as you turn this way and that, blind in the all-consuming dark.

"Athena, help me," you beg, and your voice is choked, throat raw from your yelling. "Lights. A map. Directions. Something?" Your voice cracks at the end, and you have to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth, shivering in your training clothes. Athena doesn't answer, perhaps angry at her midnight awakening, but lights turn on in a corridor not too far away, spilling warm and yellow out of an open door. You almost sprint to it, damp grass brushing against your ankles, and lean heavily on your knees when you get inside, breathless suddenly. You turn back to close the door, scanning the darkness one last time for Genji; it was pointless, you knew. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be, especially not by you in this state, especially not with his unerring ability to disappear. The door shuts with a banal click of finality that doesn't do justice to your inner turmoil; you thought about opening it again only to slam it shut and make all the glass in the building ring the toll of your angst, but thought better of it. You turn on the spot, trying to orient yourself, and spot a helpful glowing sign with an arrow: Med-Bay. You head towards that.

The hallways are dark and empty, but warm, and you wander almost aimlessly towards the sickbay, letting the signs guide you, bumping into walls as you round corners. Your eyes are glazed, unfocused, and your hands feel foreign to you, fumbling on doorhandles and with your ID card. The huge, glistening white doors of the medbay are closed as you approach but with a tap of your card they whoosh open with a gust of cool air, making the hairs on your arms stand up. You walk in as though you belong, unsure of what it is you're after. 

There's a voice, thickly accented, coming from Doctor Ziegler's small office just off the ward; only one bed is occupied and as you squint you can make out Jason's dark dreadlocks and a hint of his full lips in the semi-darkness. Soft snores waft down the ward from his direction. His leg is elevated in some kind of sling. 

"- the university students you have in engineering right now-" 

Ziegler's voice stops abruptly, and you turn towards the sudden silence, letting her see you. She appears in the doorway of the office, holding a phone, says something in Swiss into the mouthpiece and then hangs up, worry etched into the lines that deepen between her eyebrows, aging her above her 27 years. Suddenly, you know what it is you want from this visit.

"Agent, you look dreadful, shouldn't you be asleep?" 

You look balefully at the doctor, eyes flicking between her golden hair, undone like a halo around her head, and her face. Anger swirls in the pit of your stomach at her concern.

Your voice cracks again when you speak to her. "What did you _do_ to him?" 

Angela shakes her head in response, and the anger in your stomach bites down. You clutch instinctively at your abdomen, as though seized by a cramp. 

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, agent. Do to who?"

You screw your eyes shut, huffing a frustrated sigh through your nose, before you advance towards her, your voice going up in volume with every step until you're shouting at her. "To _Genji Shimada_ , doctor Ziegler. What did you _do to him_?" Somewhere in the back of your mind, shame wraps its greedy fingers around your mind and squeezes, ashamed at shouting at your superior like a child, but the anger gnawing at your guts drives you forward until you're almost nose to nose with her, and she steps back. The worry on her face is like a shadow, and you long to slap it away, palms itching.

"I saved his life, agent," she says quietly, flicking a quick glance over in Jason's direction as he stirs, awoken by the yelling. There is something dangerous in the quiet, precise way she picks her words, and the rage inside you cools a degree or two. "And I would do it again. You're clearly upset, perhaps you need to go back to your room and-"

"Don't tell me to calm down," you snap, retreating backwards into yourself, folding your arms and looking away. "Don't." Mercy manages a small smile and touches your arm, a notion of comfort, her good bedside manner. You pull away, hard. "Don't touch me either, listen, I want _answers_ -"

You're almost screaming at her again, and Jason is awake for sure now, and faintly you hear him talking and a bleeping comms unit, but you are too busy jabbing accusing fingers at Angela, who has been nothing but patient with you since day one, and shame and rage are fighting across your mind and-

Strong hands seize your upper arms. You scream out, trying to wrench yourself from the unfamiliar grasp, and forearms slide across your chest. You spare them a glance - they are dark-skinned and hairy, marked with scars. Reyes, then. You snarl, wordlessly, and he all but shakes you.

"I'm ordering you to calm down, right now, agent," he says, and his voice rumbles against the back of your head where you're pressed to his chest. "Unless you want to be out on your ass."

"Commander Reyes, that's not necessary, I don't need any formal-" Angela begins, but the deliberately calm voice of your commanding officer cuts her off.

"You'll be getting a formal apology, Doctor Ziegler," Reyes continues, holding you tighter as you thrash like a jungle cat against his iron grip. "And this one will be getting a formal warning unless she _stops moving_." You hear the threat in that emphasis, and go limp, head hanging down like a plant too big for it's stem. You're breathing heavily, worn out from struggling against him. "C'mon, we're leaving. I am so, so sorry Angela."

The doctor waves at him, stifling a yawn behind her hand. "She is clearly distressed by something, I can give you something to help her sleep?" 

Reyes lets you go with one arm, keeping the other wrapped tightly around your bicep. The question is knitted into his brows, the tilt of his eyes, and you shake your head, avoiding his gaze. Then he is shepherding you out of the med-bay, through a couple of hallways, and to the main atrium, that ever-revolving Overwatch logo spotlit from above. 

"Well? What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?"

You look at that spinning statue until it blurs, tears of hurt welling in the corner of your eyes. He's still not let go of your arm and you're sure it's going to bruise. "You knew."

It's not a question and he knows it, just holds you still as you strain to look away from him.

"You knew the whole time, and you didn't tell me. You must have, it's all in my file. Where I worked before, who owned that castle. You must have known I knew him, but not how-"

"We knew how," Reyes interrupts, but his voice is warmer now, although not yet friendly. "When you arrived, Genji almost killed Kenshin. Thought it was his idea." Reyes squeezes your arm before letting it go, takes a seat on one of the benches next to the fountain. He gestures for you to sit, but you meet his gaze with a scowl and he shrugs before continuing. "We thought it would be less, uh, distracting if you didn't find out about your dead boyfriend not being dead for a while." He smiles, but it's bitter and half-hearted. "How did you find out by the way?"

"He took off the mask," you say, quietly, as though this is supposed to be a secret. "It's still in the shooting range, on the floor. Someone should-"

"I'll go," Reyes says, standing. "I'll radio Kenshin to come and get you, hold on." 

Reyes calls the omnic, who answers straight away, and behind you the elevator whooshes upwards to dizzy heights to collect him. The doors swoosh open in what seems like mere seconds, and the look on your face stops him in his tracks, before he walks hesitantly to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He's warm, freshly charged up, and you sag against his metal carapace. Reyes coughs to get his attention.

"She knows," he says simply, and you feel Kenshin nod. "Has Shimada been back tonight?" This time, it is a shake of the head, and you tremble involuntarily. _Where was he, then?_ You are distracted, worrying, and when you come to Reyes is gone and Kenshin is pulling you into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," he says, so quiet that you're not sure you heard it. "I should have told you, from the beginning, about Blackwatch. About everything. He's gone, it's okay you can-" 

Your body seems to preempt him saying 'let it out', because with an almighty shudder and a half-silent sob you are crying against Kenshin's bare metal chest. Your words are garbled and almost choked, the lump in your throat drowning you. "What's _happening_? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Cold metal hands pat your back, trying to calm you.

"Come with me," Kenshin says, still quiet, and you realise he's making you turn all your attention to him, distracting you. "I'll make you some tea. Believe me, after a year in Hanamura's kitchens I make great tea." You give a shaky laugh at that, the sound itself wobbling awkwardly past your lips. You rub an eye with the heel of your palm and nod, letting the omnic lead you by the hand to the elevator. 

"Also, take it from me, don't yell at Ziegler again. That little pistol _hurts_." 

*** 

Two cups of fragrant, herbal tea later, and a third cradled in your hands at the Blackwatch kitchen table, you feel much better. 

You had gotten a decent look at your face in the elevator, and horrified yourself at the blotchy red spots, swollen eyes, and tracks of jet black mascara all over the place. 

"No wonder he ran off," you'd attempted to quip, but this had proven to be the stupidest thing you'd said all night, as it set off another round of sobbing and led to Kenshin practically having to arrange your limbs for you, to fit into the chair you were now in. 

But now, curled up like a cat, with the tea warming your limbs and Kenshin's steady voice explaining everything from across the table, you feel marginally brighter. Marginally. 

"We were tasked with investigating the Shimada family and their activities," he says, hands clasped on the tabletop. "What we weren't expecting was for Sojiro to up and die, and the tensions between the families to come to a head resulting in Hanzo snapping and, well-" He shrugs, and you're sure he would look embarrassed if he could. "We were both there for that." You snort, a humourless laugh. 

"Yeah I remember. You got any more of that sedative?" 

Kenshin whirs, amused. "Fresh out, I'm afraid. The tea will have to do. But once that happened, we saw an opportunity, or rather, the Commanders and Doctor Ziegler did." He looks away, out the window where the starless night seems to stare back inside. The thought makes you shiver. "Now we have three agents who're directly involved in the Hanamura incident. Myself, Genji... and you." You look up from the amber depths of your tea mug, recoiling from his words as though they're knives. "You have invaluable information about the castle, about Hanzo, and the other bosses." You curl a lip at the thought of any of the bosses; Hanzo and his stupid goatee. That Russian with all the rings and the clove cigarettes. Yuuto. _Fucking Yuuto._

"You were in meetings, you were at parties." Kenshin continues. "You can always back out-" The end of his sentence trails off, but the implication hangs in the air like a bad smell. You could back out of this suggestion, but that means backing out of covert ops, out of Overwatch. Away from Genji. You nod, understanding in the grim set of your jaw. Kenshin nods back, a few too many times, reminding you of one of those dogs on a car dash.

"Good. Now we have somewhat of an understanding, you should sleep. You have training tomorrow." He rises. It's not a request or a suggestion. You stand to go with him, abandoning your rapidly cooling tea on the table.

Kenshin walks you the short distance to your room, waits while you open the door and step through, waves when you turn back and do the same to him, a weary smile on your lips as the door lowers between the two of you, leaving you in the dark. Athena speaks your name, and asks if you want the lights on.

"No thanks, Athena," you say, settling yourself on the bed, stretched out like a starfish. "But, can you open the window?" 

"I can, but it's already 24 degrees in here, any lower and it might be harder for you to get to sleep. Are you sure?" 

"Please, Athena," you say, just a keen edge of pleading in your tone, and there's a faint hiss of air as the window opens all the way. "Thank you. Goodnight." 

"Goodnight, agent," she says, and she sounds almost worried about you, but that could be your imagination, you suppose. "Pleasant dreams." 

You stare up at the dark ceiling above you, shapes forming in the dark, disappearing when you blink. You almost hold your breath, waiting. 

_He can climb walls. He's done it before._

You lie there in wait, in the dark, alone, all night. 

You blink, and your alarm rings, the sun blaring through the still open window. 

Hours passed in what seemed like seconds, your dreamless sleep affecting your perception, and, aching all over, you haul yourself up to shower. 

"Athena, you can shut the-" 

Your request is cut short when something moves on the window out of the corner of your eye, pinned just under the latch, fluttering gently in the light breeze. It is small, and insignificant to anyone else, but your heart all but stops when you see it. 

Crossing the room in three steps, you take the sparrowhawk feather from its place on your window, and add it to its twin on your nightstand. 

*** 

"Wake up, dammit," McCree complains, rapping his mechanical knuckles on your desk, next to where your head is resting. "This shit could save your life one day." 

You were being instructed on interrogation techniques today, in a lecture led by one of the infantry agents, their uniform almost blindingly blue against all the red and black of the new Blackwatch agents. McCree was patrolling the room, making sure everyone was paying attention which, thanks to your self-inflicted lack of sleep, you weren't. You grumble wordlessly and scrub at your face with your palms, making McCree chuckle quietly as he straddles the chair next to yours. He leans in, and his tone is conspiratorial. 

"Listen, Kenshin said you got back late last night," he says, and you perk up to listen as instructed. "If you manage t'stay awake for the rest of this, I'll buy you a drink later. Blackwatch're headed out to some place we know, off base. New blood invited. You should take me up on that drink though, one time offer." He finishes his request with a wink that makes you roll your eyes. 

"Fine," you relent, waving him away. "I'm not a cheap date though." 

"And I'm not your date," he jabs back, making you smile. "Now pay attention, this is a good one." 

You struggle to pay attention, your eyelids drooping irritatingly more than once, nodding and pursing your lips in mock-consideration at what you hope are the right moments. The infantry agent continues to drone on about gamma-Aminobutyric acid and its applications without paying you any mind, so you suppose you are doing a good job. 

Thanks to McCree and his offer, at least your mind has somewhere else to wander. Where was this place? Why were you getting the special free drink offer? At least it was something to puzzle over that wasn't the ethical implications of truth serum. 

On your left, Chenoa leans over and hisses out a _psst_ to catch your attention, before whispering. 

"Don't worry, I can catch you up later if you fall asleep again. I got you." 

You perch your chin on your hand, elbow braced on the desk to support it, and give her a weary smile. "You're the best." 

She raises one thin, black eyebrow. "I know. Now try and look like you're taking this in." 

Dutifully turning back to the front, you copy down the simple structural formula of the compound as the infantryman projects it from his holovid and sends it spinning. 

_I am so glad I didn't get picked for medical._

*** 

The off-base place turns out to be a cosy dive bar, a good few miles from the Watchpoint. It was painted with peeling red paint, and small and warm on the inside, most of the space taken up by the pool table and the polished bar. Out the back the air was thick with blue cigarette smoke, and none of the regulars seemed to mind the sudden appearance of an omnic, a cowboy, a woman with shockingly coloured hair, and two wide-eyed women in black and red Blackwatch uniforms. In fact, McCree chatted amicably in fluent Spanish to the bartender, passing you a cooled glass of whiskey without even asking. You held it up in soundless thanks, and took a sip. Huh. At least it was better than that rubbing alcohol McCree carried with him. 

Kenshin beckons you over to the pool table, where he and Chenoa are racking up and chalking cues. "Wanna play the winner? Which will obviously be me. I can calculate angles in my head faster than this one can think." He gestures at Chenoa with the dusty cube of chalk, and she rolls her eyes. 

"Please, you ever fired an arrow at a moving target and got it in the eye? Course you haven't. _I'll_ be playing you, fellow agent." Chenoa adds this last promise with a wink and friendly hip bump as she passes you to line up her first shot. Not wanting to get in the way of this particular contest of egos you just agree to play the winner and head outside to get out of the way. 

The thick, smoky air makes your nose wrinkle, but you find McCree under a fringed parasol at a battered looking wooden table, sat wide-legged on a bench. You settle on the one opposite him, giving him a smile. He grins back around the thick stub of the cigar that he is chewing on, the haze around him redolent with the scent of rain-soaked earth as he smokes. 

"So, how ya like the place?" McCree asks, drawl more pronounced than ever around the cigar. You cast your gaze about appreciatively. 

"It's nice," you admit. "Comfy. Not the kinda place I expected Overwatch agents to go." He laughs at that, and the sound makes the whiskey warm your chest more than the last sip. 

"Sweetheart, we're still people. 'Sides, we're _Blackwatch_. 'S totally different." 

You nod at that with a small smile, picking at the cardboard coaster on the table. 

"You know, you really shouldn't smoke." 

Your fingers freeze in place at the voice that speaks behind you, without warning or preamble. 

McCree squints through his smoke cloud. "You've only got one real lung Shimada, whaddayou care?" He shifts the cigar in his mouth with his tongue, before lifting his hand and delicately plucking it from between his teeth, his lower lip sticking to the paper for just a fraction of a second. You notice all this as you are following his movements extremely intently, every muscle in your body screeching at you to turn around and fling your arms around Genji. At least you hope it's Genji. He's the only Shimada you'd hope would be here. 

"Well," McCree says, and you can tell from the twitch at the corner of his lips that he is fighting back a smile. The glint in his eye is there though. "I guess I'll leave you lovebirds to it." Your hand shoots out and encircles his wrist as he stands, stopping him as he is, stooped under the parasol with the faded yellow tassels dangling from it brushing against his face. 

"Did you set me up?" is what you mouth at him, repeating it slower so that he can lip read. McCree merely winks in response and, easily disentangling himself from your grip, turns and walks back into the bar. You are left dumbfounded, even as Genji lowers himself into the space that the cowboy had just left. You draw your extended arm back. 

"I'm sorry," he says, before you can even say anything. "For leaving. For almost dying. For letting you find out the way you did." He takes a deep breath here, and you realise how quickly he is talking, as though time is short. "I..." Whatever he was going to say is lost as he looks at you, his eyes, those endlessly deep, familiar dark eyes scanning over your face, hairline to chin and back again. They stop short on your lips, on your nose, on the curve of your cheekbone. "Are you okay?" 

These simple words break your befuddled reverie, and you laugh bitterly, a short and sharp sound. "Am I okay? I travelled halfway across the world, joined a military organisation, passed basic training, fought a mob boss... All for you. All to find you." You wipe angrily at the tears that prick at your eyes but do not fall. "Yeah. I'm okay." 

Genji visibly recoils at the venom in your voice. "You- you didn't have to do any of that." 

Your head shoots up, staring at him dead on. "Yes I did. And I wanted to. For you." He looks down at the table where his hands, flesh and prosthetic, are clasped together, palm to palm. You long for the bitter rage in your chest to subside, so that you can reach out and take those hands, but you resort to studying his face. The scars are grouped oddly, almost as though he was attacked by an animal, and in the low light they are thrown into sharp relief; some are protruding and thick, others thin and white, barely noticeable unless you looked closely. Beyond that, you found yourself inexorably drawn to those eyes; like a moth to a flame, you feel that you could lose yourself in them, especially when he looks back, meets your gaze, unwavering. 

"I'll tell you what happened, if you want," he says, and his voice is quiet. You hear more than see his hands lay flat on the table, palms up, an invitation. You set your drink down and take them both in yours, perhaps too eagerly, your eyes never leaving his. You nod, once; up, down, then still. He heaves a breath through his nose. "Hanzo and I fought. You remember that night? We went dancing, you looked... So beautiful." He breaks off here, and a smile, crooked like you remember, twists the scarred face. "That dress and the necklace that I-" His voice tapers off, and you see his gaze fix on what little of the silvery chain shows above the collar of your uniform. When he looks back to you, his eyes are beginning to fill. "Yes. We fought. Over the family, the castle. The crimes." He says this as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth and you almost flinch. "I went through a window. All the windows in the castle are bulletproof, but not dragon-proof it seems. Four inches thick. That is what did much of the scarring, they believe." His gaze loses focus, and he looks down at your smaller hands clasped in his, rubs them with his thumbs. "I know it was the dragons, but how do I explain that to them? I haven't been able to conjure mine in months, only once when-" You catch his eye again, lips parted in shock, and it is then you notice that a tear has chased its way down your cheek as you taste the salt at the corner of your mouth. "When I first saw you again." 

Your gentle intake of breath in response is all you can manage. The feel of his hands around yours, the sight of that face, those eyes and lips, that you thought you lost forever. It is almost too much, and then he says your name, his eyes crinkling with a bittersweet mix of a smile and a fighting-back of tears, and you are truly lost again. 

"Genji, you-" 

"Please," he says, and his voice breaks around the plead, head dropping forwards as though the table is as interesting as anything else. "You're making this so much harder than it needs to be. It's not your _fault_ , you're just sitting there, being beautiful and kind and-" He pulls his hands back and you lean forward, drawn after his movements like a magnet, a little noise of misunderstanding escaping your throat. He rubs at his face, speaks into his palms. "We should- We should stay away from each other." 

You freeze, in what feels like it will forever be your usual pose, reaching out for Genji when he is unreachable, untouchable. Your lips are parted, eyes flicking between him and the table as you struggle to comprehend what he is saying. You slump back into your seat, lines deepening so hard between your brows that you can see them at the edge of your vision. 

"What do you mean? We live across the hall from each other!" 

Genji looks across the table at you, and in that fleeting second you can see the months of pain, of hurt and sleepless nights, of worry and secrets, etched into those endless eyes. "I can't ask you to take pity on-" He raises a hand, the metal one, and flexes the fingers. "On _this_." He spits the word as though it leaves a bad taste on his tongue, and pushes back from the table and you immediately jump up to follow, moving faster than you have all day. He walks away and you grab his hand, the human one, your fingers falling against his wrist and feeling the pulse rush past, the indescribable, undeniable proof that he was _here_ and _alive_ in your hand. 

"Please," he begs you again, looking at you with a contorted look of what borders on anguish. "I can't ask you to- to take care of me, to be with me out of pity, to accept the body that I cannot. I am a monster and-" 

"You are _not_ a monster," you say, and the emotions roiling in your stomach have your voice thick and loud with something ineffable and strong, beyond your comprehension. "Genji Shimada, you listen to me-" 

"My name always did sound better when you said it," he says, cutting you off with a small smile as he steps closer to you, slides his hand from yours. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, rests his hand against your face. He inhales, deeply, studying your face as though memorising everything about it. You feel stripped bare under his scrutiny, but it is not an uncomfortable feeling. You feel as though you would let him hold your beating heart in his hands if he asked it of you. You _feel_ , and perhaps that is enough. "Gods, what I wouldn't do for that voice, for every breath of yours." There is a cold, gentle brush of his lips against your forehead and you shiver. "But it would be better for me to, to-" He pulls away, and you spot the crystalline drops of twin tears on his high cheekbones before he lets you go. "Keep my distance." 

"No, no-" you begin, but then he is walking away again and you cannot push through the crowd of smokers fast enough. Emerging, blinking, into the dim bar, you realise he is gone. 

You ball your fists, nails digging crescent-moons into your palms. 

"Hey," Chenoa calls from somewhere on your left. "You okay? I won, so you're up, bud." 

You nod your understanding and take a cue from Kenshin, letting your lips and cheeks form a smile that you do not feel, praying the happiness spreads from your lips and then all through you, to the tips of your fingers and hair and toes, to every cell. 

Like you'd said; across the hall was barely a distance to keep. 

*** 

" _Ouch!_ Jesus, dude..." 

"Sorry, sorry!" You apologise quickly, releasing Jason's foot from your gentle grip. He scowls at you from his small mound of pillows, but it soon morphs into a smile, which is surprising given that you'd just poked him in a bullet wound. "How're you doing?" 

"Oh, y'know, just chillin'," he says nonchalantly, wiggling his injured leg in its stirrup. "Mercy says I'll be up and about soon. Speaking of, I dunno what happened with you two and all that screaming last night, but she hasn't stopped smiling since you gave her those chocolates just now." He nods in her direction and you puff up proudly. 

You had swung by the med-bay once home from the bar, a pilfered box of fancy chocolates from the commissary under one arm. Ostensibly, you were there to see Jason, your teammate, but mostly you wanted to apologise properly to Doctor Ziegler. She appreciated the effort, apparently. 

"Course she likes em, they're Swiss," you say as casually as possible, flicking at a pile of papers you had left on Jason's nightstand. "Have fun getting through those by the way. Truth serums aren't as cool as they sound." As Jason groans, you are distracted by a familiar posh voice at his bedside. 

"Excuse me, Blackwatch agent, are you harassing my patient?" 

You grin across the prone Jason at Joe, resplendent in his green scrubs. "Only under orders from my CO, doctor," you say in your best, bad imitation of Joe's accent, before switching back to normal. "It's good to see you." He winks at you in that way you know means 'likewise' and you sit back, watching him work. Just like Ziegler, he is ruthlessly efficient first and foremost, but his chatty nature still shone through. 

"Hey, Jase, did you see any of the engineering students earlier?" 

Jason looks up from playing with the button that controls his morphine pump. "Hm? Ah, yeah, the ones interning with Torbles? Yeah they passed through, getting the grand tour. There was one with crazy big ginger hair, some girl. She was cool." Jason's smile becomes dreamy as he pushes the pain relief button, and Joe tuts at him. You grab your jacket, and start to make for the door, but a cool hand on your shoulder stops you. You look back to see Joe, his lips pressed together awkwardly. 

"I heard about the, uh, yelling at my boss thing," he says, voice low. "Is it all... Good now?" 

You regard him thoughtfully. "Trust me, I wouldn't have gotten into this med-bay in one piece if it wasn't." Joe pouts in thought, and then nods, letting you go. 

"Good point. Now get back to your bit of the Watchpoint, dammit, it's getting dark and you look, uh, knackered." 

You salute him sarcastically, and share a wicked grin, before walking out of the sickbay, past Mercy who is actually humming as she packs what looks like metal plates of armour into a padded case. You think better of bothering her, and walk quickly to the elevators, alone. 

You were determined not to let Genji get his way. Sure, you wouldn't be _too_ pushy but, maybe he just needed time? After all, you were going to have to see him pretty much everyday. 

_Did you love him?_

The question he had asked, before you knew who he was, rears up in your head, unbidden, like a tic. Truthfully, it had been swimming around in there ever since it passed his lips, but now it was at the front and centre, demanding your attention. You had never answered it to yourself before, let alone to him, but- 

The elevator judders to a halt at your floor, breaking your concentration. The floor seems deserted, so you hurry to your room, the darkness of Reyes' office and the kitchen seeming almost ominous when you're alone. Your door opens without a noise, and you gasp when you step into your room; the window had been open all day, and all night the night before, so it was as freezing as though lined with ice. 

"Athena, close the window please," you say, rubbing your hands together as you drop your bag. Nothing happens, and you frown at the screen next to the bathroom door. "Athe-" 

The screen remained inactive. Come to think of it, she hadn't greeted you when you opened the door either. You freeze on the spot, every sense heightened with your unease. Something about this just felt _wrong_. You strain every sense, listening and feeling for anything, any movement, any sight in your dark room, any- _There_. 

Something shifts behind you and you whirl, drawing your sidearm with one fluid movement and aiming as best you could in the dark at- 

"... Genji?" 

The cyborg shifts again, red lights shining on his armour so brightly in the darkness that you could mistake them for glowing embers. You don't lower the gun. "Genji, what are you-?" 

"I came in the window," he says, and as your eyes adjust you can see that his hands are raised in surrender. "That is why you left it open, after all, isn't it?" He sounds choked up, his voice and accent both thick with tears, whether shed or unshed you couldn't tell. You nod, stiffly, and he moves a little closer, holding a remote. "This is for Athena, if I turn on the lights, will you-?" He points at the gun and you nod again. He speaks in Japanese and Athena answers in kind, and with the lights, before he issues another command that seemingly switches her back to English, as she switches languages halfway through the sentence. 

"-perature dropped low, I am going to close the window now, agent." 

"Thank you, Athena," you say, lowering the gun and holstering it. Your voice sounds strange to you, strangled and small, scared even. You turn your attentions to the ninja opposite you, who has stepped even closer, so you have to look up to see him. He reaches out and cups your cheek in his hand, and it is warm, so warm just like it always was. You can smell his cologne, dabbed on his wrist, and if you close your eyes it's like nothing has changed at all. You could be back in his room at Shimada Castle, wrapped in sheets and inches from claiming his lips with yours, which tingle at the thought. You open your eyes, meet his gaze. 

"You said we should stay away from each other," you almost whisper, your arms reaching out against your will, to undermine your words, to draw him closer, closer. He shakes his head, the metal arm encircling you even as yours wrap around him. You fall into place easily, the pair of you, puzzle pieces put together again and again until the edges slip against each other like silk, like it is in their nature. 

"I was never good at taking advice," he says, and there's a familiar playful edge to his voice that makes your heart sing, sends your blood chorusing beneath your skin as though even your red and white cells long to be closer to the man in your arms. "Especially from myself. _Especially_ when it comes to you." He pulls your arms from himself and steps back, and your heart jumps to your throat, but he merely walks to your nightstand, lightly touches the two feathers there with a fingertip. "You kept them." The statement is simple, said quietly, but still it makes you flush. 

"Of course I did," you say, voice gravelly. You swallow, then, to dislodge the lump in your throat to no avail. "Genji, before you go away again-" 

He turns around at that, regarding you from a distance, dark eyes wide as he seeks to take in as much of you as possible. He is silent, listening and watchful of your every movement, of the rise and fall of your chest, of the glint of the green jewel at your throat as you breathe. 

"Genji, you asked me a question," you say, slowly, not willing to break the spell. "Before I knew you were, well... you. You asked-" 

"Did you love him?" Genji finishes for you, and he sounds almost hypnotised by you. There is a long pause before he continues, his hands twisting nervously although his face remains impassive. "And? Did you?" 

You take a step towards him, but approach no closer, allowing him the space to close or to run if he wishes. Your heart is seemingly lodged in your larynx, fluttering madly to the tune of your nervousness, to the adrenaline coursing through you. _Fight! Flight! Freeze!_

"I did," you croak out, swallowing, wetting your lips, fixing bleary eyes on his. "Genji, _I do_. Would I have done any of this if I didn't? Come to find answers, never thinking to find you, travelled all this way just for information about you, for a memory?" 

It is all coming now, every thought you had nurtured in the dead of night, every passing melancholy worry when your hands or mind fell idle, the horrors that awoke you gasping his name whenever you slept. "When you died it felt like all the light in the world was gone, like all I could do was lay down and waste away. But I didn't, because you wouldn't have wanted me to; I learned, I moved, and I _fought_. Oh, god, did I fight-" You shake your head, your shoulders heaving as you smother something between a sigh and a sob, and your eyes close. "I need you to understand that I- that I do. No matter what's happened." 

There is a long, tense moment of silence, your hearing straining to take in everything as your eyes remain closed, held shut by some terrified iron grip, scared to see the look on his face. You hold your breath, listening for his instead, for any movement, for a word, a parting of his lips, _anything_. 

There is a shuffle, a sigh, a faint and cushioned thud. 

Genji takes a step towards you. 


	20. L'Appel Du Vide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Happy new year and welcome to chapter 20! Given that originally this entire thing was meant to be 6 chapters long I think that's something to celebrate, I guess? Sorry this took so long, I've had finals and some other crap going on. Promise 21 will be sooner, providing people still wanna read it! :D

You can taste salt.

You think of the ocean.

Of the way tiny, unnoticeable tremors far out beneath the surface can send a tidal wave screaming towards the shore. Of the way it carves into the land, inch by agonising inch, scraping more room for itself. Of the way waves merge and roil as they crash into one another. Of the way it opens and accepts whatever falls in with open, freezing arms.

You think of the helpless pull of drowning.

There's a taste of honey at the edge of your senses, and you are drawn to it like a moth to flame, seeking more of it, devouring and savouring all at once, magma incarnate. 

There's heat, as there always is, and at the same time something cold and sharp that just serves to heighten your senses, to anchor you to each passing second, to each desperate and deafening beat of your heart. You flit, oscillating, between the two extremes, never settling on some happy middle, reeling.

Hands, one hot one cold, cling to your upper arms, encircling like bracelets, holding you to the earth, to a warm chest, to _here_. There's a breath of hot air across your face, whispered words that you don't understand, a rasp of stubble, a frantic tug of war between reason and craving. 

_That_ is what you feel when Genji Shimada's lips - finally - meet yours.

***

"Yeah, I'm all better now," Jason says around a mouthful of toast. "Bullet wounds are a common thing in Overwatch, who knew?" He lowers his leg off of the breakfast table, where he had been showing you and Chenoa that the skin where Genji had deflected the bullet was fresh and new, as though grown back rather than stitched together. You push your shower-damp hair out of your eyes and nod, half lost in your own thoughts. You swear if you lick your swollen lips you would still taste Genji on them even though it had been hours since, the searing heat of that one kiss imprinting it on you forevermore. 

"You okay dude? Thinking about Mike?" Chenoa asks, nudging you with an elbow that almost knocks you out of your seat in your daze. You nod, which tells her a lie; Mike, the fourth new Blackwatch recruit, had bowed out of Overwatch completely in the early hours of the morning. You didn't even know that was an option, and you dread to think what they'd done with him now, but admitting that that was what you were dwelling on was easier than telling Chenoa the truth; that your recently dead lover had got you to tell him that you love him, kissed you until you forgot your own name, and disappeared back out the window with nothing but a promise to see you the next day. She nods back, apparently satisfied.

"It's fine. Us three? We're made of tougher stuff. We can handle whatever they throw at us today." She checks her phone, calls up a timetable. "Whatever _specialist training_ is. You think they're gonna throw us out a plane again?" Jason grimaces at the thought.

"Fuck, I hope not. Once was enough."

"Y'know we'll have to do that almost every mission, right?" You ask, eyes sparkling with amusement as Jason comes to that realisation with a look of dawning horror. As if to break the tension, your comms units all blare to shrill, beeping life and Reyes' gruff morning voice follows not long afterwards. 

"Good morning, agents. I trust you all slept well, not that I actually care all that much." He pauses to yawn and to slurp at what you imagine is not his first coffee of the day. "I'm gonna need you all to hop in the elevator pretty toot-fuckin-sweet and come on down to the interview rooms. I'll send someone up to meet you in the foyer. Over." 

The three of you begin to stretch out your limbs, the sounds of tired joints cracking breaking the silence. Jason groans dramatically when standing until Chenoa hands him his crutches, which he accepts with a grin and a wink.

"Do you even need those anymore?" You ask, jutting your chin at the mobility aids. He shrugs, looking wistfully into the middle distance.

"Nah, but there's this cute engineering intern that stopped by my bed whenever they were in Medical," he admits, a flush creeping across his cheeks and darkening his ears. "I figure she might ask about it if I still _look_ sick. She's doing an engineering placement from Oxford or some shit, so she's smart too, not just cute." He sounds almost defensive and you pat him on the back with a laugh, the teasing a welcome distraction from your own wandering mind.

"I'm sure she's great, you'll have to introduce us." Chenoa snorts from behind you, but makes vague noises of agreement. "See? Now you gotta."

"Hey, hey, maybe later," Jason promises, leading the way to the elevator with an unconvincing limp. "Gotta actually, y'know, talk to her without tripping over my own tongue first."

"Excellent plan," Chenoa says, with almost no hint of sarcasm. "Maybe if you can talk to her without lying about an injury, it'll work." You choke back a laugh, not wanting to add insult to fake-injury, and thankfully the elevator stops with a _ding!_ that jostles you all into silence, drawing your attention to Kenshin who is waiting just outside the elevator for you. 

"Morning everyone," he says in that way-too-cheery voice, especially for this time of the day. "If you'll follow me down to the interview rooms..."

"So, what is this specialist training?" Chenoa asks, straight to the point as always. "Cause Jase here is still on crutches, and I'm not up for being thrown out of a plane again today, and-" 

Kenshin cuts her off with a raised finger, beckoning you all to follow so he can walk and talk. "We're black ops, as you should all know by now, and sometimes that means getting information out of our guests through ah," Kenshin pauses, and there's something almost sheepish in the slope of his metal shoulders. "Unconventional methods?"

The door ahead of you, the one helpfully marked 'INTERVIEW ROOMS' hisses upwards and open, and the sound of flesh impacting flesh rings out, followed by a cry, and a weary sigh that can only belong to Commander Reyes. Kenshin motions for you all to be quiet, and leads you towards the source of the sound.

Behind a two-way mirror you can see a room, a chair, and a set of chains that you'd never forget; only this time the liquid dripping off them isn't ice cold water but the steady, thick drip of blood from at least three wounds that you can see and several more that you can't from the sheer amount of it on the floor. Reyes stands over the slumped body in the chair, arms coated up to their elbows in gore, and leans in to pull back the bound man's eyelid. Apparently satisfied with what he sees, he turns to the mirror and pushes one bloody hand against a button, making an intercom crackle just to the left of your group.

"All of you there?" 

Kenshin replies affirmatively and Reyes smiles; there's blood across his face too, a garish diagonal streak that cuts his nose in half with a flash of red. 

"Alright then; the man you see before you is a representative from bonny old London; MI6, actually. We need to find a way into the parts of London controlled by Null Sector and- Wait you guys know about Null Sector right?" 

Kenshin quickly explains, just in case you don't: "They're an extremist group concerned with omnic rights in the United Kingdom; as of right now they have at least a hundred hostages in the Kings Row power plant, and the British prime minister has disallowed Overwatch intervention."

"Thank you Kenshin," drawls Reyes, inspecting the thick paste of gore under his fingernails. "The thing is, we're not Overwatch and whoever this asshole in Downing Street is can't actually tell us what to do. So, if our man on the ground is correct, as long as we can get past the anti-aircraft guns we've got a chance to-"

"Commander Reyes," comes the cool voice of Athena, cutting him off as though he hadn't spoken up in the first place. "Agent McCree is on the comms channel. He wishes to speak with you and Commander Morrison urgently." Reyes rolls his eyes, but releases the intercom button and starts cleaning himself up. He emerges, moments later, seemingly uncaring of the man still slumped in the chair. 

"Duty calls," Reyes announces as though this was any normal work morning, watercooler chat and everything. "Kenshin, I trust you can stick around until James Bond in there wakes up? Give the new blood a little look around the interrogation room. Call it a learning experience." He adjusts his beanie on his head, turns on his heel, and walks off with a nonchalant backwards wave. Your stomach turns as you look through the open door to the interview room; there's a thin stream of blood working its viscous way towards the drain in the corner, and something about seeing it flow like that, so bright against the concrete floor, seems like a warning sign - _don't come in here_. Chenoa is the first to follow Kenshin in, and even she recoils visibly as she enters the room, and once you're in too you can see and smell why; god knows how many days this MI6 guy has been here, but it's safe to say he's not left that chair. Your eyes immediately flick to the tray of implements off to the side, and your feet follow, allowing you a better look; it's a surgical tray, so the scalpel and dentist's drill were almost to be expected, but the slightly rusty pliers and the brass knuckledusters take you by surprise.

"Does everyone know about this?" Your own voice sounds hoarse and alien, wrong almost, to you as your fingers skim a wicked looking hacksaw; you try not to look at the dried blood on the handle. _Woman up, buddy_ , you scold yourself, _You're part of a black ops operation, not a Girl Scout troupe._ For some reason that internal scolding is in Reyes' voice. 

"Well, Blackwatch is officially off the books at Overwatch," Kenshin explains as he looks over the hostage, to make sure he's still breathing perhaps, or maybe to pick his pocket. "So, yes and no. They don't know the full extent, and they don't want to."

"And will we be expected to-?"

Kenshin cuts you off with a shake of the head. "You can elect to be trained in specialised interrogation techniques; I myself am, as are Reyes and Wilson. McCree started the training and never finished. We have a woman named Moira who runs the training. She's... something." Kenshin studies your face for a moment before answering a question you didn't ask. "Genji isn't." You nod, giving him a ghost of a smile. The ringing of your comms units break the silence again, and Reyes doesn't even greet you when you pick up.

"Blackwatch, get suited up and up here to the comms room ASAP; you have about an hour to test our your new gear, recruits."

"But sir," Kenshin interjects. "They weren't supposed to get their skillsets until-"

"Extenuating circumstances, Agent Kenshin," is Reyes' brusque reply. "Take 'em to Lindholm and Winston and let's get this over with. Over and out." 

The air in the interrogation chamber suddenly seemed colder, emptier. What was the huge rush? 

"Well, you heard the commander," Kenshin says, and he sounds almost weary despite the early hour and the fact he's made of metal. "Let's move it; you all know the way down there. You don't need me." He waves the three of you off with a half-hearted salute, and returns to checking over his guest. You stick close to Jason as he fake-limps back towards the foyer.

"Hey, maybe your mysterious engineer will be there, it's not all bad!" You say brightly, perhaps overly so. He rolls his eyes.

"When we're in this much of a rush? I think you'd rather have a clear-headed teammate, buddy." 

You can't help but agree with him on that one.

***

"Holy. Fucking. _Shit_."

Chenoa's blunt statement is a perfect summary of everything that is rattling around your brain at a million miles an hour right now. 

You'd hustled off to R&D and had an extremely disgruntled Torbjorn thrust packs into your hands as soon as you stepped through the door, the Swede grumbling away about how they weren't finished yet. When the three of you just stood there, dumbfounded, he sighed and started to explain.

"All senior agents have a skillset unique to them and gear to go with it," he had griped, tapping away at a keypad attached to a holovid so you could see what he meant. "Angela has her staff-" A short clip of Mercy healing a fallen comrade. "McCree has his deadeye abilities," McCree combat rolling towards the camera and fanning the hammer of his six-shooter. "And as you can see out there, Cadet Oxton has some kind of displacement ability and a 'chronal harness' according to the monkey." Torbjorn waved a stubby arm at the great glass wall behind him, which looked down on a padded training room. Below, a woman zipped around in flashes of blue light, wielding twin pistols against her opponent-

"Ah, that's one of your guys isn't it? The Shimada fellow," Torbjorn had said, making no effort to disguise the mirth in his voice at Genji's obvious confusion; clearly there was no love lost between Blackwatch and the engineers. Sure enough when you followed his gaze there was Genji and your breath caught in your throat; he was dressed for training, shirtless, and you were able to see for the first time the way the metal crawls over what was once perfect, flawless skin. Skin puckered in scars around protruding tubes and wires that look as though they could tangle any minute. The Blackwatch logo etched in white in the centre of his chest. It's so different. Alien, almost. Across, in the other observing balcony, Winston called for the fight to break, so the floor could clear for Blackwatch. Genji had looked up then, caught your gaze with his newly crimson eyes, and sent your heart skipping in your throat. 

It was still doing that now, but whether that was just the aftershock of Genji's cybernetic appearance or the thrill of using your new gear, you couldn't say.

You curl your fingers inside your new gauntlets; black and red, adorned with glowing crimson lights, they looked unassuming enough, decorative even, but if you hit the contacts in the fingertips in just the right way they delivered a painful electric shock, as poor Jason had discovered when trying to get the jump on you with his weird new stealth ability. It was a bit like the cloaking on the Blackwatch jet, one second he was there and then he fades from view, disappearing into the air so he could get up close and do some damage with the brace of sticky grenades they'd given him. Chenoa, true to form, had been given a brand new compound bow that you did your best to avoid with the shield that you could now generate, courtesy of the gauntlets. You'd smiled when Torbjorn explained that you could summon that, remembering the one that saved you from Strike-Commander Morrison in training. 

"They don't want you having anything too exciting to start out with," Torbjorn told you as he fitted Chenoa with what essentially amounted to a low-powered jetpack. _Nothing too exciting, right_. "So this is it for now, I'm afraid." 

You hold your hands up in surrender as Chenoa approaches, having hovered her way down from her snipers nest, leaning forward a little to accomodate the painful stitch burning just below your ribs. 

"The hour must be up already," you wheeze, panting between your words as though you'd just run two marathons. "Why isn't Reyes flipping out about us not being in the comms room?" 

"Maybe they don't need us anymore?" suggests Jason, materialising at your side and making you jump, reaching reflexively for one of the throwing knives strapped to your thigh ("We know you're good with a shuriken," the agent helping you gear up had said, "But we can't have you and Shimada mixing up your gear, imagine the fuckin' paperwork every time you lose one of these things."). "They could have sorted whatever it was?" 

A knocking from the observation deck above draws your attention and you look up to see Morrison himself, in full blue and white regalia, tapping against the window. He waves a finger at your assembled group and jerks his head towards the room behind him, impatience scored into every gesture. His meaning was clear; _you three, up here, now_. Not wanting to keep the Strike-Commander waiting, you scramble for the door one after the other, with even Jason neglecting to pretend to be injured in his haste. When you get to the top of the stairs Morrison waves you towards some couches, hand pressed urgently to his ear as someone inaudible to you yells down the earpiece; you can see beads of sweat standing out on Morrison's pale forehead, and he looks tired, something you thought was impossible for a super-soldier - whatever's going on can't be anything good. You perch awkwardly on the offered seat, eyes trained on the Strike-Commander as he paces nervously in tight circles, each step perfectly measured as if to bring some sense of normalcy to the situation. Someone clears their throat to your left and you whip around, mouth going dry when you're greeted with Genji's black and red eyes, and a weary smile as he removes his faceplate.

"Don't worry about the commander," he says, quietly, as though just to you. "There's something going on in London, I don't know if anyone told you..." He trails off, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck with the metal hand; up close it's somehow less jarring, now you don't feel the need to look at him as separate pieces, joined together like puzzle pieces; he's just Genji, maybe with a few less limbs, but the same Genji you knew before. You're sure of it. You nod, throat still dry with your sudden bout of nerves, bottom lip vanishing between your teeth as you chew anxiously. Part of you understands the nerves; what do you say to the man who broke into your room, kissed you, dragged a confession of love from your lips, and then vanished again? Genji carries on, turning his gaze to the other two, taking the pressure off you to say something.

"They're trying to decide whether or not the situation needs Blackwatch to go in; Agent McCree is already out there, but Overwatch were banned from operating in England at all, so either way, it's a completely illegal move." He sighs, rubs his face with his palms, stretching the scarred skin grotesquely, briefly giving him the look of a fine-boned Halloween mask. "I thought I left behind turning a blind eye on crime for money." There's a familiar, dry humour to his voice and you relax a little, allowing yourself to sag back into the couch cushions. There's little space between the two of you, and in the tiny gap between your leg and his metal thigh his hand wriggles into yours; it's a weight your palm knows well, but your heart skips a beat anyway, glancing quickly around at your companions to see if they had spotted this covert display of affection. You squeeze his fingers imperceptibly, and a faint hum is your reward. 

Morrison continues to pace, interrupting the person on his comms line every so often. "And _I_ say we can send in regular infantry! There's no need to tarnish an already illegal operation with-" Morrison's blue eyes slide over the four Blackwatch agents on his couch, just for a moment. "- Certain reputations." He stands still for a moment, glaring at an empty patch of wall, nodding and 'mhmm'ing at intervals. He yells again without warning. "Well! Ziegler, Wilhelm, Lindholm, and- And..." He stands still for a moment, then clicks his fingers, whirling to point at a skinny, short-haired woman in Overwatch blue - you recognised her, eventually, as the woman who had been sparring with Genji - "Cadet Oxton. She wants to be promoted to active field duty anyway, and... Yes? Was that a yes?" Something steely breaks in Morrison's eyes and they gleam with triumph; his voice remains measured and calm despite this though, as he signs off the cool, yanks the earpiece from his ear and leaves it to dangle.

"Blackwatch, although you're not needed right now you're to remain geared up in case the situation goes FUBAR on us," he snaps, resuming his pacing at a quicker pace now. "Head to the main comms room and rendezvous with Reyes, and I'll be there presently. Now, Oxton, or... What was your callsign again?" 

"Tracer, sir."

"That's it; Tracer, you come with me. I hope you've been on a dropship before." With that Morrison strides off, the much shorter Tracer taking two or three quick steps for every one of his at his side, lecturing her on field duty as they go. 

Genji is the first of your group to stand, releasing your hand so that he can stretch his arms behind him, as though gearing up for a fight. The loss of pressure on your palm sends a shock of frigid pins and needles through your hand. "Come on then; as the most senior agent here, I suppose I should take the lead. Reyes will be spitting fire if we aren't quick, so come on."

He walks quickly, leaving the newer Blackwatch recruits hurrying in his wake, taking quick steps to catch up; you try walking next to him, catching his eye, trying to talk, but when you look up at his face that crimson gaze is reproachful and a barely-there shake of his head catches you off guard. Your steps falter and you fall behind, alongside Chenoa, wondering what happened between him releasing his grip on your hand and standing to leave. 

***

The main comms room was a thing of beauty, wall to wall screens and banks of lights you weren't a hundred percent sure were actually _for_ anything, even as they flickered alarmingly. Holographic facsimiles of the four agents who were already in London hovered, rotating, over the central table, their vital signs emblazoned over their callsigns at their feet: Torbjorn, Mercy, Reinhardt, Tracer. Jason had asked if Blackwatch had callsigns, to which Genji had just shrugged, and you'd spend the last hour or so of the mission discussing what yours would be, rather than focusing on the fact that if any of those holograms went dark then you would be shipped out to London, possibly to die too.

"I feel like mine should be bird related," Chenoa says, tapping the booster rocket on her back with long fingernails. "Hummingbird, something like that." You hum appreciatively, trying not to look across the room at Genji, who was sat cross-armed and cross-legged, staring at the phone in his hand.

"Well, if you're having a bird then so am I," Jason announces, tapping his foot impatiently as he too watches the screens for any signs of activity. The four agents in the field are making slow, tentative progress. "I can't think of any birds that have camouflage though... Ducks, maybe? I don't want to be Duck though, imagine hearing that yelled across the comms in the middle of a mission and everyone just hits the deck." Jason cackles at his own mental image, the laughter trailing off into a sigh when he realises nobody is laughing with him. He nudges you with his elbow, drawing you back to the conversation. "How about you?"

Your eyes flick quickly over to the other side of the darkened room again, taking in the red lights that you know are Genji's eyes. "I think I like Sparrow." His head turns at that, and although you can't see his lips behind his faceplate, you can tell that he's smirking just from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners; a familiar sight, and a welcome one.

"Sparrow _hawk_ ," he says simply, with a little trace of that old laughter lurking in there, before pointing at the mission screens, telling you all to pay attention without words. You return his smile with one of your own and then, checking that the other two are distracted, he indicates his phone with a shake of his wrist, a signal; check yours.

As you slide your phone from your pocket, you catch some of what is being said over the monotonous rattle of bullets and the occasional excited whoop from Tracer.

"This is Captain Amari, the first air defense node is right around the corner," Amari informs the team, her voice taking on a well-meaning if long-suffering tone. "And Reinhardt, don't charge in there on your own."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Captain!" is the enthusiastic reply, even as the _whoosh_ of a booster rocket tells you all that he did exactly that. Amari pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs heavily. You bite back a grin; it seemed wrong to be enjoying watching them in action, despite the fact you were still a little starstruck by them all. There's an audible click as the comms go down briefly, allowing the team to charge the payload. The three commanders chat, voices grave.

"This has to go well... After all this business with Lacroix-"

"What happened to Gerard couldn't have been prevented. Had we known that Amelie wasn't completely recovered-"

"Who can say what they'd done to her though? Talon are-"

There's a screech of plastic wheels against hard flooring as Reyes scoots his chair over to Morrison's comms terminal, snatches his microphone, and begins to speak to the team. 

"Reyes here, latest Blackwatch intelligence indicates heavy Null Sector numbers inside the power station - don't look at me like that Morrison, don't you have a statue to pose for? - expect Null troopers, Eradicators, some Bastions, and some O4-14s..." 

You power on your phone, squinting at the brightness as you read; as expected, there's a text from Genji, a new number, not the number of the dead man that you still had saved, the boy with green hair whose face still graced your homescreen. You read quickly and tap out a reply.

**I'm sorry about earlier. I panicked. I am not sure how much the team know, if anything. Can we talk later? Perhaps in the gardens? If we don't end up in London of course... G xxx**

_They don't know anything, it's fine. Of course we can talk, I'd like that..... Also you don't have to sign your texts, I know it's you xxx_

Reyes sounds clipped, stiff, awkward even as he talks, clearly used to the easy if unprofessional banter with the close-knit Blackwatch agents. "Focus on those OR-14s, they're your top priority, take them out!" He covers the mic and turns to Amari with his signature scowl. "Christ, do you have to hold their hands like this all the time? Blackwatch'd have this done already..."

"And Overwatch'd be done too if Blackwatch were caught operating on British soil," Morrison says in that world-weary way of his. "Go back to your own station, Reyes." Reyes does not follow this order, instead yelling at the infantry in the field to 'get this done' and stubbornly kicking the brakes on his chair. He leans back, looks over his shoulder at you and the rest of the team.

"Alright, Blackwatch, looks like we're gonna be good here. You guys can go take your gear back and then the rest of the day is yours. Uh, you... Hummingbird, I guess," he adds, pointing at Chenoa with a wry smile. _Oh good, they'd heard all that talk of callsigns_. "Go find agent Kenshin, get him to send our guest home relatively intact, and then get him to go along with the original plan." Chenoa nods, blinking rapidly as she takes in all that information, looking every inch the deer in headlights. Genji starts at Reyes' words.

"Sir, with all due respect, the original plan is still going to take a while to-"

Reyes whirls around and glares at Genji, stopping him in his tracks. "Just get it done, Shimada. Hurry up about it."

You turn to help Jason to his feet, and find yourself stopped on the way out of the door by the grasp of cold metal fingers on your shoulder. 

"Agent Sparrow," Genji says, with that little undercurrent of humour is back in his voice after his minor confrontation with Reyes, and you know he's smiling under the metal covering. "I was wondering if you could help me with something? We will have to cut through the gardens though, uh... Shortcut." 

You crinkle your nose in an effort not to smile, and catch the barest widening of Genji's eyes. "Sure, it's not like I've got anything better to do." He laughs at that, a short and clipped chuckle.

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Come along then, agent."

***

The gardens are gorgeous, bathed in the warm orange light of the late afternoon, lighting everything up as though by candlelight; the burnished metal of Commander Morrison's statue shone like a beacon, the spindly leaves on the date palms turned translucent when backlit, and your hands delighted in the patches of sunlight as you ran your fingers along the metal railing beside you. Below, far below, the sea crashed against the cliff face, relentless, seeking more room for itself. 

Genji walked beside you, twitching nervously every time it looked like you might overbalance and tumble over the edge into the empty air. So far the pair of you had not exchanged any real words, the easy banter that you seemed to share in the darkened comms room melted away by the light of day. He turns his face towards the light, helmet carried in the hand that didn't keep reaching out to pull you back from the edge, scars blending into skin in the forgiving golden light. He is suffused with it, from the tips of his hair to the bottoms of his feet, so much so that it almost pains you to look at him, the longing ache in your chest spreading out and down. You resist the urge to say something, to ask why he had just left, but you bite your tongue. He murmurs your name, and you pause mid-step to look at him.

"Could you please just come away from there?" Genji asks, face settling in a chagrined smile and a hand extended towards you. "It's hard to think when you're so close to the edge." You oblige, taking his hand and stepping down from the base of the railing. You make to pull your hand away, but his grip tightens slightly, enough that you barely notice, but it stops you. You are nose to chest with him, and he looks down at you, the familiar black pits of his eyes warm and yet distant.

"I... Apologise. For my behaviour," he says, looking at your clasped hands. "Again, I suppose. I seem to have to do that a lot with you. I shouldn't have left so suddenly after- After everything that was said." You smile, open your mouth to reassure him, but he shakes his head and continues on. "I need to be honest with you. Starting now."

With that, he dips his head lower and catches your lips with his; a gentle meeting of lips, soft and unassuming, filled with nothing but the adoration that he means. His hand, mechanical and cool, winds it's way into your hair, not pulling, merely cradling and keeping you close as he kisses you as if for the first time. You kiss back eagerly, tilting your head so that your lips can find better purchase, your hand curling tighter in his and squeezing. 

You break apart, but not far, close enough that you could count the dark lashes that encircle each of the fathomless eyes that drink you in now. Everything around you seems to have melted away, every sense in your body focused on the man in front of you; the feel of his warm breath on your cheek, the taste of his kiss on your lower lip, the smell of the sea under that familiar, faint scent that could only be him. He squeezes your hand in turn, and a shadow passes over his face, his expression serious. When he speaks, his voice is grave and low, the words brushed against your lips with every movement of his. He speaks your name, pauses, as though savouring the sound of it.

"I love you too," is what he says, simply. "I do. I do."

You close the distance this time, eyes closing as you kiss him, light and lingering, your lower lip caught between his for just a fraction of a second when you pull away. He sighs, and when his eyes open, there's a spark in their dark depths that you recognise. 

A spark that you love.

***

"Listen, I hope you guys are ready for this, you might want to sit down 'cause I know how you humans get-"

"With respect, Kenshin," you manage to spit out amidst his ramblings, holding up a hand to stop him. "I'd really rather you just told us what's going on."

Athena had interrupted while you were in the gardens to inform you that Agent Kenshin wanted all active members of Blackwatch to gather in the secondary comms room; the smaller, windowless one that was reserved for Blackwatch and Blackwatch only. You and Genji had arrived last, taking your time winding through quieter hallways, hand in hand. Jason and Chenoa barely looked up when you walked in, and you were surprised to see an extremely jet-lagged McCree with his boots propped on the holo-table, but Reyes and Kenshin weren't surprised at all by your closeness to the cyborg at your side. 

Now, the omnic was dithering about trying to bring up a 3D hologram of your deployment destination, not unlike the ones used for the field agents earlier. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear his hands were shaking. 

" _Koneko_ ," Genji says, an insistence in his voice that draws your attention. "I really think you should sit down, this plan has been in the making for a while and-"

The light in the room suddenly triples as the hologram bursts to life, with a little whir of relief from Kenshin. You whip your head around, tearing your gaze from Genji to take it all in. It's huge and bright, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust, but your first thought is still a surprise to you.

_Huh. They left the dorms off this one too._

The lamps around the courtyard wink up at you like coins from the bottom of a wishing-well from this birds-eye view, the always rustling cherry-blossom trees seemingly frozen in time. It was taken a while ago, that much you can tell; if you squint, there's a man in a suit waving to someone out of shot, the flash of green hair on his head the thing that draws your attention first. 

You know it before the name appears in block capitals along the edge of the hologram: SHIMADA CASTLE, HANAMURA.

"We're going back?"


	21. Resurrection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //OKAY SO my life has finally stopped being such a giant garbage fire and I finally have time to update! A couple things: I know McCree isn't supposed to have his metal arm yet but honestly I'm pretty sure Blizzard's lore is just a series of Post-It notes stuck to their communal break room fridge so I'm allowed a minor fuck up I guess; I'm sorry the story is slowing down a little for a bit; aaaaaaaaaand I'm sorry again for slow updates please see the aforementioned garbage fire. Shoutout to regular readers AymericDeBorel, Saoirse, SailorAries, Tear, Mairym, RinShimada, TheWinterChild, MercurySkies, Azaleeshwrites, Oh, HallowedPulse, JadeCitrus, officialvarrictethras, oomikram, and starlordspacejesus for keeping me going; y'all are the best.

Genji was right; you should have sat down for this one. The air is pulled from your lungs all at once as though you've been punched especially hard in the gut, and your hand blurs the hologram as it passes through it when you lean on the table. Your eyes swivel up to Kenshin, wide as dinner plates.

"We're going _back_?" You ask again, faster this time, and the omnic nods solemnly. 

"This mission has been months in the planning," he explains slowly, swiping the hologram across and taking the roof off the buildings so everyone gets a birds-eye blueprint of the whole castle. "There was going to be a longer time before we launched it, but we recently received intelligence from one of the crime families that we befriended while Commander Reyes and myself were undercover there that something big is going down." Reyes leans forward at this and punches some information into his holovid, changing the hologram to show a rotating portrait of pudgy man with slicked back hair. You can smell cloves just from looking at him.

"Stepanychev isn't the biggest fish we've got to fry, but he's definitely got the biggest mouth," Reyes says as relevant information about the Russian and his crime family scrolls under his portrait. "He'll remember me, but only as my cover, so we can go straight back in with that. These guys are going to be our targets, either extraction or extermination." Reyes types a few more things, bringing up five icons. Kenshin taps the first one as Reyes talks. "This is one of the Osaka Shimada clan, we don't know much about him but thanks to our inside source -" Here, Reyes leans back and gives Genji a friendly punch on the arm. "We know enough. This guy is also vaguely related to the Shimadas-"

"He's a second cousin," Genji says, leaning over Reyes to add that information with his keyboard. "He's one of the nastier ones too; human trafficking, drugs pushing, gun running in warzones. They never let the truly awful stuff too close to the head of the family." Reyes nods thankfully and Kenshin clicks on the next two icons together, bringing up two more portraits.

You recoil instinctively when Yuuto's face bursts to hideous, lifesize life inches from your own. 

"Nice to see you remember these two," Kenshin says in an even more deadpan voice than usual. "Yuuto and Reo. Not blood relatives of the Shimada clan, but they're particularly high profile in the drugs trade and a few of us have... Personal grudges with them?"

"You can say that again," you all but growl. 

"A few of us have personal grudges with them?" Kenshin repeats innocently, earning a smirk and an eye roll from yourself, and a pointed cough from Reyes. "Ah, right, sorry commander. Fair warning, I've heard that the younger brother, Yuuto, doesn't exactly look the same anymore since _someone_ broke his nose. Not pointing any fingers."

Genji chuckles from somewhere behind you, and you swear you hear him mutter 'that's my girl', making your heart swell with pride. 

Reyes clears his throat again and turns to Genji. "You sure you want to be in the room for this last one, agent?" Genji doesn't say anything, but he nods and shrugs all at once, giving him the odd look of a nodding dog on a car dashboard. Reyes smiles lopsidedly. "Alright then, your funeral. Again." You glance sidelong at Reyes for the poorly executed joke, but then Kenshin clicks on your final target and the room goes silent but for the whir of the holographic projector.

Long dark hair, serious almond-shaped eyes, a mouth set in an unreadable line that could mean anything from 'I don't like the way you've polished this floor' to 'you've done a satisfactory job folding my laundry today' in your experience. Nobody says the name as it scrolls across under his portrait: Hanzo Shimada. There's a long, tense silence, broken by McCree's boots hitting the floor as he sits forward for a better look with a low whistle.

"Huh. So _that's_ your brother?" 

Genji tilts his head to one side, squinting at the cowboy. "He was."

"I dunno, I was expecting more of a..." McCree waves his mechanical hand at Genji, top to toe. "Resemblance."

"I know right," Genji deadpans, raising one eyebrow, the one with the scar through it. "I'm the better looking one." 

McCree snorts back a laugh and rocks back on his chair again. "Whatever you say, shithead."

"Oh, that name's stuck, cowboy?"

"Y'know it-"

"Agents," Reyes says, voice as taut as his patience. "Can we please focus? This is our highest profile target and we kinda have new recruits in the room-"

"I'm assuming the idea is to extract and interrogate Hanzo, not assassinate him?" Chenoa pipes up, flicking through a file at a million miles a minute on her own holovid. "Although I'm sure some people here would rather we didn't." She aims a disarmingly sweet smile at Genji. "I read your file." He gives her an uncharacteristic thumbs up and Reyes sighs.

"See, that's the initiative and focus I want on this team," the commander says with a groan, mussing his goatee with one hand. "That's exactly right, Chenoa. Hanzo is top priority for extraction, the others are pretty much expendable, although we'd prefer Reo alive-"

"What about his brother?" You interrupt, whipping your head around to face Reyes. "What about Yuuto, sir?" Reyes cocks an eyebrow at you and doesn't bother to disguise the masochistic little smirk under his beard.

"Not exactly top of the food chain, and as long as we have his brother I doubt he'll tell us much. Feel free to do whatever you want with him." Reyes leans back further in his chair and then frowns. "My saying that is off the books, obviously." You nod your understanding and see Kenshin bristle across the room. You thought, of all people, he'd get it.

"Alright, meet back here at about 2100 for your actual role assignments; this isn't going to be a long mission but there will be a degree of undercover work. Takeoff is at 2300, getting us to Hanamura itself for about 0400-"

"Wait, were making it from Gibraltar to Japan in _five hours_?" Jason asks somewhat incredulously, a frown marring his features. Kenshin lets out a noise that might have been a clearing of his throat if he had one. 

"You remember the Blackwatch dropship?" Kenshin says, and then pauses as you, Chenoa, and Jason share equally horrified looks. "Uh, yeah. That."

Reyes actually does clear his throat as he stands. "Alright, you're all dismissed for the next couple hours. Get some rest, pack some essentials, then hightail it back here for nine. If you're not here, you're not going on the mission. And that's _not_ a good thing, before anyone thinks of oversleeping."

You stretch, giving the five targets rotating on the hologram one last look before the room plunges back to the dim overhead light as the hologram is switched off. There's a cool metal hand on your upper arm and you turn towards Genji like a leaf towards sunlight. He fixes you with a serious look, head tilted and brow furrowed, outlining his concern in the lines between his brows: _Are you okay?_ You nod in return and a smile returns to his face, an expression that seems to erase the scars and the time apart and the ache in his eyes, and you can't help but lean up to press a kiss to those smiling lips, forgetting that the rest of Blackwatch was still sat around you. The silence in the room and Genji's awkward foot-shuffling soon grabs your attention, and you look around with a furious blush bursting across your cheeks.

"What?" You ask, as though you don't know why they're looking.

"Nothin'" says McCree, ever the one to break an awkward silence with a tip of his hat as he puts it back on. "Just about time, is all."

You stick your tongue out quickly at the cowboy before ducking out of the room with Genji, each agent behind you going their separate ways. You swear you hear Reyes grumbling about having a poker game with Morrison and Amari that he'll have to miss. 

"So," Genji says as you walk, dragging out the vowel and jamming his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "What now?" 

You check the time on your phone, decide it's not long enough for a decent nap, and groan. "Ugh, Reyes wants us to relax, but how? I can't stop thinking about the mission, and Hanamura, and having to go back there, and -" 

Genji surprises you by bending down and easily hooking you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, embarrassing you as you end up interrupting your speech with a yelp of surprise. 

"Genji, what the hell?"

"I'm helping you relax," he insists, not breaking stride for a second despite the added weight of an extra person on his shoulder. "And it's quicker if I carry you." You can't deny that he was difficult to keep up with these days, on those damn robot legs, but you still had questions.

"But where are we actually _going_?"

"You'll see," he all but sing-songs, turning his head to wink over his shoulder at you. "You gotta admit, you're curious about what's under the armour, right?" 

You're shocked that all the chrome and steel of his back doesn't immediately melt under the searing heat of the blush that surges up your neck and across your cheeks. "Genji, I- I mean, I don't know if I'm ready for - I only just found out you're _alive_ and -"

"Oh, relax," Genji says, interrupting your spluttering. He's turned his head away, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. "I promise, nothing like that; just a little something to take your mind off everything, okay?" He looks back over his shoulder, raises his eyebrows. "You okay back there? I don't hear an answer..."

"Okay," you finally relent, rolling your eyes. "But whatever it is, it better be good."

"Honestly, you'd think I'd be the one more stressed about this," Genji says with a mock-disapproving click of his tongue as he walks you towards the elevators. "After all, my brother is about to get the shock of his life when he realises I didn't exactly take to the afterlife."

***

"Okay, I admit, you were right."

Genji chuckles at your admission as you sigh, sinking back into the warm bathwater. You had no idea some of the Blackwatch rooms were a little fancier, and his came equipped with a bath big enough for the entire goddamn team. Right now it's just you in here, practically floating on clouds of fragrant bubbles as Genji sits on the edge of the tub, stroking your hair out of your eyes where it's plastered to your forehead. Steam rolls off the water in hazy clouds, making everything look a little dreamlike. The comms room, the hologram, the mission; they all seem so far away and unimportant so long as Genji keeps massaging your scalp just like that...

"You look so beautiful right now," he says quietly, in a voice you feel more than hear, a deep rumble that sends shivers down your spine in time to the steady beat of your heart. Your hand emerges from the water to meet his as it slips down to stroke your neck, your collarbone, tracing the delicate dips of skin and bone that make up your features, shining with water droplets.

"Water's great," you say, pressing his human hand to your damp cheek. "Why don'tcha join me?" Genji grins at the cheesy line and you gladly return one of your own. He motions for you to sit forward in the water and you scoot, bringing your knees up to your chest, eyes fixed on him in rapturous fascination.

He pulls his Blackwatch hoodie over his head first; the taut muscles of his stomach stand out under scarred, tan skin, which stops abruptly on the right side of his chest, replaced by rubber and metal and wires that jut and twist. He regards your reaction, head tilted, and you stay as still as possible. You don't want him to stop. Another part of you just wants to run your tongue along the join between metal and flesh and then lower, laving in the valleys between his abs and leaving lovebites atop the scars, but that's just your mind wandering; you reign it in, just a little. His hands, both metal and human, raise to his head, pressing the buttons on the back that release the visor; although the faceplace and mask are off there's a curious little ring of metal that attaches it all to his jaw, which is what comes away now. He runs the pads of his silicone fingertips across the metal jaw.

"This bit is permanent," he explains quietly, lifting his head so you can get a better look. "And yet somehow, I still have all my teeth." He gives you a grin, as though to prove his point, the fine, sharp canines at the corners as familiar and endearing as ever. You know, maybe better than anyone, the way they raise goosebumps on skin when they dig in hard enough to bruise. "And my lips... As you well know." He winks again, and you laugh, splashing him, for which he playfully admonishes you in Japanese. The smile gives him away though.

He makes to remove the sweatpants next, but there's a blush forming on his chest and crawling up his throat that tells you more than you needed to know. "If it's okay I'd rather you uh, closed your eyes, for this part..."

"Wait, so, you've still..." You let your sentence trail off as your eyes trail down, sliding down his body and eyeing the waistband of those grey sweatpants before flicking back up to meet his gaze, which he then sheepishly avoids. "Got... Everything?"

"I mean, it's nothing you haven't seen before," Genji says quickly, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other under your scrutiny. "Well, there's a couple of bits you haven't seen before, but nothing in _that_ area, I think? And it's all... Functional?" The poor cyborg is turning as bright red as the lights on his visor. He clears his throat and stands on one leg, lifting his left leg. "Okay, this leg is fully cyberized, the other is only prosthetic from the knee down, no I cannot take them off, _aaaaand_ everything else is... Fine. Same as it ever was." He coughs again and looks out the misted window, the blush having clawed its way to his cheeks now. "Now, can you please cover your eyes?"

You oblige, covering your eyes with one hand and trying to disguise a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips; he was so flustered that it was somehow adorable. There's a gentle splashing and you suddenly panic, your free hand shooting out to clasp his human hand.

"Wait, can you actually get in the water? You're not gonna like, toaster-in-the-bath me, are you?"

"... What?"

You imitate the sound of electricity buzzing and then a short 'bleh' sound, indicating your sudden, unexpected death from electrocution. You only realise that Genji's laughing when you feel his entire body shaking with it.

"Really, _koneko_? You think Overwatch would fit me with the most advanced prosthetic limbs on the planet and then not make them _waterproof_?" He chuckles again and slides into the water behind you, beckoning you to lean back against his chest. "Honestly..." Genji finishes his giggling fit with a sigh, curling a hand around your wrist to pull your hand from your eyes. "Hello there, beautiful one."

You can blame the pink that tints your cheeks on the heat of the bath later.

"Hello, you," you reply, tilting your head back a little to look at him. In the haze of the steam you can barely see the scars. "Like I said, you were right; this is the most relaxed I've been since I got here." A rumble of happiness echoes through his chest behind you as his arms encircle your waist, soft lips nuzzling and pressing kisses to your neck until you sigh dreamily.

His hands travel up your body, catching on damp skin, one cold and one warm even in the heat of the water. He skims your curves, touches featherlight and almost dainty, fingertips dancing across you. The sensation gathers at the top of your spine and drips down it like wax, breath catching in your throat. Your own hands feel the legs either side of you, travelling up and down, feeling the stark change from skin to metal and tickling along the edge of it until you drag a little gasp from his throat, the whir of machinery following not long after.

You turn in the water, emboldened by his reactions and loop your arms around him, chest to chest and nose to nose. He murmurs your name against your lips, hands finally settling on your waist.

“I thought you wanted to wait,” is what Genji says next, the words breathed out against your lower lip, before he takes it between his teeth and bites down gently, the sensation making you tingle all over. You pull back and kiss along his jawline, along the join between man and machine.

“Does it hurt?” You ask by way of an answer, and when he shakes his head you twirl your tongue around the delicate shell of his ear, nibbling at the lobe. “Good.”

When you kiss him again, there’s more heat in it than there is in the water around you, and he pulls you closer, closer, as though the two of you could become one.

“I love you,” he whispers, and it echoes back off the tiles. “So much.”

Water sloshes over the edge of the bath and your last coherent thought is an idle wondering of who will have to clean it up.

***

You and Genji are both late for the meeting by mere seconds, but that doesn’t stop Reyes attempting to bore holes in both your heads with a menacing glare when you walk in, damp from the bath and giggling. You’re pretty sure McCree eyes the sizeable purple mark on your collarbone; you decide to tell him that you got it in training if he asks.

“You’re just lucky that your roles are up last,” grumbles Reyes as he hands out the files; actual paper ones, harder to trace and easier to burn after reading. “This is the first real mission for some of you so I expect some fuckin’ professionalism.” Doesn’t stop the commander from rolling his eyes good-naturedly when you salute dramatically for him. Old habits.

“Alright then, here we go. Chenoa, you’re gonna be with me; you’re my secretary, PA, some boring shit like that,” Reyes begins as Chenoa flicks through her file. “Gets you as close to the centre of the action as you’re gonna get if things turn ugly, and things could get pretty goddamn hideous out there.” Chenoa nods her understanding, and Reyes swivels his chair around to the next one.

“Agents McCree, Jason, and Kenshin; you’re back in the kitchen I’m afraid,” he announces, fixing Kenshin with a sympathetic smile. “It’ll only be for a couple days, I swear.” Reyes adds this last part when McCree opens his mouth to argue, and this quickly shuts him up. “If we decide we need a poisoning then you’re all in prime position to poison. Just makes sense. Plus, I hear the pay is good, ain’t that right Kenshin?”

The omnic doesn’t answer, but you have a feeling that he’d be flipping the commander off with both metal hands if it wouldn’t risk his job.

Reyes swivels one more time and faces you and Genji. “You two aren’t going undercover.”

“Why not?” You cry out, face falling so quickly from your smitten grin to a crestfallen gasp that you’re sure the change gives you whiplash. Reyes shrugs.

“Maybe something to do with the fact that he is a cyborg ninja, which is pretty hard to disguise, and you are too easily recognisable to the targets. Kenshin’s fine, an omnic’s an omnic to these guys, but you broke one target’s face and fucked the other target’s brother, so...”

Colour rushes back to your face, high angry red points on your cheekbones, and you’re sure you’re going to faint from all this blood rushing to your face and back today. Genji pats the back of your hand amicably and asks the question on everyone’s lips.

”If we’re not going undercover, then why are we going, Reyes?”

You swear Reyes practically bristles with excitement at this new announcement, even as it makes your blood run cold. “Well, if things head really south, and I’m talking _really_ like, Baja California south, like Antarctica level south, then you guys are the assassins.”

”So if they’re not a prisoner or dead already...”

”We pick them off,” you conclude, chewing on the inside of your lip.

"Well, in all likelihood, it's not gonna come to that," Reyes says with a low whistle. "But if it does, you're both pretty deadly from long range so, shouldn't be a problem." The commander rocks back on his chair and checks the time on his watch, which you're sure doubles as any number of weapons in reality, and clears his throat. "Okay team, time to prove you're not entirely useless; go get geared up and I'll meet you on the jet."

***

"Reyes, what the hell are you wearing?

"What?" Gabe replies, stretching out his arms as you all stand, the slightly shiny material of his red shirt crinkling as he does. "I'm deep undercover as a crime lord, gotta fit that tacky, tacky stereotype."

"How about a medallion too, boss?" McCree drawls, fixing his hair in the warped reflection of the jet interior. "Really finish off the whole look."

Reyes rolls his eyes and turns to you, Jason, and Chenoa. "You guys okay? You look a little green around the gills."

"All good, boss," you promise, lifting your bag of gear down from the overhead bin. You can't deny that there's a churning in your stomach that almost has nothing to do with the flight you just took. "Just glad we don't have to parachute this time, if I'm gonna be totally honest." Reyes had decided that you had reason enough to be in Hanamura that the jet wouldn't look out of place at the airport on the edge of the city, provided they kept the Blackwatch logo on the underside covered, so thankfully you hadn't had to drop from 20,000 feet into the castle. Kenshin and Genji were already out on the runway, both in black hoodies, pulled up to cover their shiny metal heads. It felt strange, knowing that Hanamura was just beyond the stark, windowless walls of the jet, given how much had changed since you were last here. Shouldering the duffel bag, you head for the door and down the steps.

You find Genji staring into the distance; you can't see it from here, but you know from the drop in your gut that Shimada Castle is over there somewhere. You fancy that you can even see the faint glow given off by the castle's abundance of lamps. Sliding up next to Genji, you slip a hand into his, breaking his reverie as he turns his head to face you; you can't see his smile any more than you can see the castle, but you know it's there.

"You looked like you were about to do some real brooding off into the wind. Some real Heathcliff style wailing," you tease, rolling your eyes when he tilts his head. "Wuthering Heights, man. I read it at high school. Seems like a lifetime ago."

"I can't imagine how that feels," Genji replies, robotic voice deadpan and dripping sarcasm so thickly that you could slip on it. "Really, though. It feels strange, being here. I know almost every inch of this city like the back of this hand." Genji holds up his left hand, the human one, and flexes it experimentally. "But right now it feels as familiar as this one." He squeezes your hand this time as it's held tight in his robotic one and you squeeze back, unsure still if he could feel it. The sped up whir from inside his chest implies he can, and you lean closer, the sound somehow familiar already. " _Koneko_ , what are we doing?"

"Our jobs," you reply with a little shrug. "I didn't join a goddamn black ops operation to find you only to duck out now. I've gotten kinda into it."

Genji chuckles. "It'll have that effect on you, trust me." Anything else he might have been about to say is interrupted by the slamming of the jet door behind you and a shout from Jason, telling you all to gather by the squad of sleek black cars that had silently pulled up alongside the plane. He motions for you both to pull the hoods of your sweatshirts up and you comply before half-jogging to meet the others. You almost screech to a halt when you notice who's getting out of the first of the three cars.

"It is good to see you again, my friend," Stepanychev exclaims, enthusiastically shaking hands with the slightly stunned Reyes. The shock only registers in his eyes for a moment before he slips back into character. "I see you bought your own staff with you?"

"Can't be too careful, with this many men of our profession in one place, am I right?" Reyes asks with a wink and a click of his tongue. "Just a handful of kitchen staff, a couple of omnics to help with the ah, heavy lifting, if you catch my drift?" Luckily, Stepanychev taps his nose conspiratorially and nods. "And this is my personal assistant, Emma. She, uh, doesn't talk much." Reyes presents Chenoa, who looks somehow less stunned than her commander does, to the Russian, who bows and brushes his cigarette stained lips against the back of her hand. You can't help but eye the other two cars warily.

"Our host graciously sent a few cars over," Stepanychev explains. "You and your assistant may ride with myself and him in this one-"

It's at that that your blood turns to ice, and you feel Genji stiffen at your side. There's a moment where the roar of blood in your ears drowns out the Russian's voice completely knowing that just a few feet away, behind tinted glass and shiny black steel, sits Hanzo Shimada, the man who set you on this strange course the moment he let his dragons chew on his brother. You can't even imagine what's rushing through Genji's head right now; the cyborg covertly presses his hand to the side of his helmet, starting a comms link.

"Stepanychev and... And Shimada are both here," he breathes, the faceplate meaning that he can talk without fear of lips being read. "We could just do it now." Reyes slides his eyes in Genji's direction for a fraction of a second and there is a brief, practically imperceptible, shake of his head. Even in that tiny gesture, his denial is clear. _Not yet,_ is what you see in that head shake. _Stick to the plan_.

Reyes and the Russian keep exchanging pleasantries for a little while longer and you keep your eyes obediently turned downwards, horrified by the idea that, despite the tinted windows and your hood and the fact he has no reason to suspect you, Hanzo could somehow recognise you. You stay tense, stuck like a machine in need of oil, only moving the hand trapped between yourself and Genji to gently rub one fingertip against his wrist. It's an attempt at a soothing gesture, and even in that gentle touch you can feel the way he trembles. Eventually you tune back into the conversation, just in time.

"Allow me a moment to talk to my staff, and I shall join you and Mr. Shimada," says Reyes, smooth as silk, a smile forming a bright flash of white in the early morning dimness. Stepanychev acquiesces and Reyes turns to your assembled group with a face like thunder, all pretense dropped away as he gathers you all close. "Alright, so this is a bit of a surprise to all of us-"

"Mmhmm, you think so, Commander Reyes?" Genji says stiffly, picking his syllables carefully to disguise the shaking in his voice. You encircle the wrist you'd been stroking, fingers forming a bracelet, but he shakes himself free with a little flick of his arm. "Cause I'd say everything's going perfectly to plan."

Reyes shoots him a withering glare. "Look, we couldn't have planned for this, and we have to be quick," he continues, pointing around the group. "Those of you posing as staff, and that includes assassins, you're in the third car; you're being dropped off at the staff dormitories. Kitchen staff, just follow everyone else to work in the morning, and at least _pretend_ you don't know what you're doing, Kenshin." The omnic gives Reyes a thumbs up, hand hidden in the throng of agents. "Assassins, there's a room on the north side of the building, window is fourth floor, second in from the left-" Genji interrupts him with a quiet snort of laughter and you nudge him with your shoulder, quieting him. "Uh, anyway, that's your lookout spot, apparently it's been empty for almost a year so you shouldn't be found out. It's got a great view of the courtyard and some of the covered walkways."

"Yeah, it always did," you agree quietly, so only Genji could hear you. "Useless against being surprised by a ninja scaling your wall and crawling in your window in the middle of the night though." Genji shushes you, but you can feel that he's stopped shaking a little; relaxing, settling into the job at hand, focusing.

"Okay, everyone got it?" Reyes asks a little breathlessly, looking once more around the group. "Excellent. Get in your vehicles and keep your comms on. Yes, that means all night. I'll be in touch when I can." He swallows, hard, making his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

"Good luck."

***

”It looks like nobody’s even looked in here since I left,” you complain, running a finger through the layer of dust on what was once your dresser. “See? Gross.”

Genji shakes his head affectionately and wraps an arm around your waist. He ripped the faceplate off almost as soon as the door clicked shut behind you, so now he’s able to press kisses to your throat, districting you from your room inspection. “It’s not like you kept the place spotless.” You bat at him ineffectually with your dusty hand, making him cough dramatically and let you go. He heads to the window, squints out at the rising sun, and you can’t help but notice that his fingers rest in the gouges left by your fingernails on the sill.

”How’s the castle looking?” You ask, by way of distraction. He shrugs in response, face unreadable.

“Same as it ever did,” he replies, voice a little wistful. “And at the same time, completely changed. It feels different, in the air.” He gives a little shudder at that and then turns to face you, the beginnings of a wicked smirk stirring on his lips. “You know, we had our first kiss in this room.”

You grin back, a baring of teeth more than anything. “You said that one didn’t count! Our first proper kiss was-“

”I said a lot of things,” Genji says, crossing the room to you in three quick steps. “And so do you. What I’d really like to do is stop that tongue of yours for a few minutes...”

”And how do you plan on doing that, agent Shimada?” You tease, allowing him to envelop you in his arms once more. He looks up, feigning thought before his gaze meets yours again, a spark dancing in his black eyes.

”How about a repeat performance of that first kiss?”

Instead, you stand on tiptoes and give him a little peck on the nose. You wriggle free of his embrace and head to one of the gear bags, eyes downturned and face solemn. "Genji... I know you're putting on a brave face but you don't have to. Not with me."

He shifts uncomfortably, and even though you're not looking at him as you unpack a telescope and the pieces of a rifle, you know he's running one hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck; every little gesture is as familiar as the words to your favourite song. "I know," he says finally, turning to the other gear bag, the one full of armour and gadgets, including your new gauntlets. "I know, I guess I just wanted to feel..." He pauses, and you hear him swallow. "Something. Other than this empty, disjointed... Unbelonging. Is that even a word?"

"No," you admit, the beginnings of a small smile creeping onto your face as you screw the scope onto your rifle. "But it makes sense to me."

"And that's all I need," Genji replies, and the conviction in his voice lets you believe him.

***

"Sniper squad, report in sniper squad."

"You know, commander, I really think we need a less obvious name."

"Don't start with me, Shimada," comes Gabe's tired voice over the radio. "What would _you_ suggest calling the squad with the sniper rifle?"

"Dragon squad? Birdseye view? The hawks? Eyes in the sky? Help from above?" Genji suggests, making you laugh despite the fact Gabe can hear you. "Something cool."

"No, no, and definitely not," Gabe hisses. "Look, I don't got all day down here, have you seen any activity from target H's room? Or seen the man himself at all? Nobody down here has, kitchens, crime bosses, nobody."

You pick up the spotter scope and give a quick sweep of the courtyards, main buildings, and all the windows you could see in. "Nothing, commander. Haven't seen him since we got back from the airport. Where would he usually be this time of day, Genji?"

The cyborg shrugs, leafing through the intelligence that had been gathered on Hanzo. "It's what, about 2pm? The gym, usually, before lunch, or a lunch meeting. Is he not in the conference room?"

Gabe huffs an irritated sigh down the line. "Where the fuck do you think _I_ am? There's something going on, and I don't like it, we might have to get out of here sooner than..." There's a moment of silence as the line goes dead and you hold your breath, waiting for him to come back. The radio squeals when he does. "We're going back in. Stay in touch, I'll let you know as soon as I have news."

The line goes dead again, and you release the breath you'd been holding in a long, ugly wheeze. Genji flicks through the papers again.

"It doesn't make sense," he says, shuffling them around as though the pages are puzzle pieces he can't quite fit together. "Why would Hanzo call them all in, have them in meetings all day, and then not be around for them? Something has to be going on."

You reach for the bag of trail mix at your feet and dig out some of the M&M's, chew thoughtfully for a minute. "I know about as much as you do, sweetie. We just have to wait for news." Genji huffs at your answer and pushes the papers aside, crawling over to sit with his head in your lap. You card your fingers through his soft black hair idly, a comforting gesture. "I know it's hard."

News comes not long later, in a hurried call from the agents disguised as kitchen staff. It's McCree that speaks first, his southern drawl a familiar and surprising presence on the comms line; it had been Reyes pretty much since you'd arrived.

"'Kay, so here's the thing," McCree says, hurried and almost panicked sounding. "There's this rumour buzzing around the staff that Hanzo's got everyone here for some kind of loyalty test." The cowboy pauses to swallow thickly, and Jason picks up the slack.

"I think we've been rumbled," he says, a little less scared sounding than McCree. "Or at least they know someone isn't who they say they are. I'm thinking we make our move tonight, but I guess that's down to commander Reyes..." He trails off for a moment and there's the ringing of a bell that you recognise from your days in the kitchen, so familiar that you almost leap to your feet to head into the dining room with a jug of sake and a demure smile. The thought makes you shudder. "Look, we gotta go, but someone make sure this gets to Reyes, okay?"

"Not a problem," Genji confirms, and sits himself back up, rubbing one hand across his face and stretching the scars all out of shape. "We'll be on the lookout, right _koneko_?"

You nod, a grin overtaking your face, and there's a cough from the comms line, McCree back with something new no doubt.

"Just a side note," he drawls. "Could y'all stop being so gross on the open comms channel?"

He's laughing as he switches his link off, sparing you any further blushes.

"Hey, maybe someone else will kill him before we have to," Genji jokes, but the undercurrent of nervousness in his voice ruins it somewhat and he sighs. "Don't worry, nothing bad is going to happen. Not this soon in a mission."

***

It seemed that the castle's penchant for famous last words hadn't stopped just because you had left.

You slam your arm out across McCree's chest as your shield shimmers to intangible blue life around the pair of you, flashing where the bullets from the nearby gunman connected with it. The cowboy nods his thanks and leans behind you to dispatch another attacker with three well placed shots, each a deafening rattle inside your skull. The man's body drops with a dull thud, and the first lets out a strangled choking noise then falls forward, revealing two steel-fletched arrows embedded in his back. You look up to spot Chenoa ducking out of sight on a balcony; a sniper was the only help from above you could count on right now.

"Reyes, come in Reyes," McCree shouts down his mic, pressing his free hand to the comms unit in his ear. "Reyes, Shimada, _anyone_ , we could really do with a hand down here!" He's not wrong, even as you let the shield fall into a million fragments of light three more of the attackers round a corner; one of them shouts something you don't understand, but you know it means he's probably alerting the rest of his buddies about your location. "How in the hell'd we even get in this situation?"

That part was easy enough to explain, but you weren't about to be the asshole that did it during a firefight; as you understood it a fight had broken out in the conference room, the agents in the kitchens had misunderstood the severity of the situation and burst in, thereby blowing theirs and Reyes' cover, and here you all were in a shootout with half the Shimada crime syndicate, with your commander and the only Shimada you knew was on your side conspicuously missing.

You tear a throwing knife from the holster around your thigh and, with barely a thought, launch it and a second directly at the nearest attacker, who yells as he stumbles back with one sunk into his eye and the other into his hand. It's all the distraction McCree needs to round on him and empty a clip into his chest; as his body falls, Jason appears next to it, seemingly out of thin air.

"Jesus Christ, guys, I had him!"

"Less complainin', more pickin' up his gun and helping!" McCree roars in answer as he reloads, and Jason does so, charging after another member of the syndicate. McCree inspects his gun almost casually before turning to you. "Alright, girlie, you know this place, where can we get to to bunker down til Reyes and Shimada can get back to us?"

"Gym," you answer immediately, ducking as another volley of gunfire passes overhead, stretching your arm out to cast another shield over yourself. "Only one entrance or exit, plenty of stuff to make into a barricade. Plus, throwing weapons." McCree nods and broadcasts the order to everyone else, adding in an extra message for Kenshin, Genji and Gabriel. "You guys know where to find us. Over."

With that the four of you that were in the courtyard turned and started sprinting for cover, bullets from both sides ricocheting off the stone floor, sparking in the half-dark when they hit. Piling into the hallway as one breathless unit you all stop, clutching at stitches that burn just under your ribs and wiping sweat from brows. McCree scans the hallway beyond and then motions for you to head in front and lead the way, your knowledge of the castle the only asset you had right now. You elect not to use a shield; it glowed too blue and too bright and made you stick out like a floodlight in the dark, empty hallways.

The castle was unsurprisingly empty as the syndicate searched for any Blackwatch presence; twice you and your followers had to stop as someone shouted not too far away, only for their footsteps to echo off into the distance both times, taking your held breath with them. Finally, finally, you reach the gym.

"One entrance, one exit," you whisper, confirming your earlier analysis. McCree nods thoughtfully.

"That's only one entrance for us to cover but at the same time, only one exit for those assholes out there to cover..." the cowboy drawls, rubbing at his scruffy beard with one gloved hand. "Listen; Jason, Chenoa, y'all can hole up in here-"

"Like hell we will!" Chenoa argues, but then slaps her palm across her lips when she realises that her shouting could give away your position. McCree fixes her with a look from under his brows, all narrowed eyes and clenched jaw.

"My point was," he continues, obviously more than a little irritated. "Y'all are still green, practically wet behind the ears, so you can hold up in here and wait for Reyes, or Shimada, even Kenshin. Barricade the door, knock some tables over, anything you can."

"There's some thick crash mats you could use," you add, pointing out the closet where they were kept through the slightly ajar door. "But, McCree, what am I-?"

"You an' me're gonna patrol nearby," McCree explains, accent more pronounced the quieter he gets, murmuring his words between gritted teeth. "I'm the best shot we got right now, and you've got yer shield. We'll be fine, just don't wander off too far, or take any unnecessary risks." He stops, looks down and chuckles to himself. "Heh, looks like Reyes' lectures have been rubbin' off on me after all. Go on, get; I'll start these guys off with a decent barricade. Stay in touch." He hands you this dismissal as though he's just saying goodbye at the end of any normal work day, and all you can do back is nod stiffly as the cowboy hustles your teammates into the gym. Jason smiles sadly at you. You press your lips together, hoping that sad look doesn't mean what you think it means; that he thinks you'll fail and everyone here will end up riddled with bulletholes before the night is out. It's not a comforting thought.

You're almost two hallways away from the gym when you hear any noise at all, and instead of another attacker it's an incessant bleeping from your comms unit; someone wants to open a private link. You hurriedly patch them through and are immediately greeted by panting breaths that you'd recognise anywhere. Genji introduces himself anyway.

" _Koneko_ , it's me, I'm-"

"Out of your goddamn mind apparently," you hiss. "Where are you? Are you hurt?" He hums a 'no' and you huff out a short sigh of relief, not allowing your shoulders to sag yet though. "Still doesn't answer where you _are_."

"I'm looking for Hanzo," he replies quickly, and his voice has dropped lower, become quieter. As though he's hiding. As though he's in danger. "I think my brother may actually have left the castle, I think this was a test of some kind, but we can't know for sure until we get someone else-" He pauses, and there's silence all around you for a moment before his voice returns. "Just... Just listen to whoever's in charge. I will meet everyone at the gym as planned, I promise just... Hold on." You can't help but smile at that.

"It's okay," you reassure him, although it feels anything but right now, alone in this dark hall surrounded by enemies. "You've cheated death once, you can probably do it again." Genji laughs at that, and it's the last thing you hear before the line goes dead and you return to the chatter of the open line, which is abuzz with activity to your surprise.

"... fuck's sake, answer, girl, answer! Do you copy?"

"I copy," you breathe into the mic, and McCree growls in annoyance. "I'm sorry, I... Lost signal or something. What's up?"

"We had what looked like one of our high level targets here, but he's skedaddled," McCree explains hurriedly. "Looked t'be headed in your direction, so watch out, okay? Now we know you're okay we're goin' radio silent, don't wanna attract attention. Over."

There's a pit in your stomach as cold and dark as the ocean, and you're pretty sure your guts have turned to water and your legs to jelly, because the thought that you're _not_ alone in this dark hall is somehow much scarier than the thought that you were alone. You turn, checking behind yourself, one hand firmly planted on your sidearm. Nothing. Slowly turning again you head for the end of the hallway, brand new combat boots uncomfortably loud on the stone floors. You're holding your breath and your heartbeat is as loud as a drum in your ears, but you somehow manage to pull one of Commander Morrison's lectures on total situational awareness to the forefront of your brain.

Perhaps that's why you spot the blur of movement across the dark hall and manage to slam up a shield in time.

The blue barrier doesn't shimmer to life this time as much as explode, bursting from your gauntlet and spreading across the span of the hallway with an audible _snap_ and a burst of blinding blue light. It stops the katana in its tracks though, lighting up the barely invisible cutting edge like neon and turning it azure. You follow the blade from tip to hilt with your eyes, flick across to the chest covered in chunky combat armour, and up to the long, thin face. Dark eyebrows over darker eyes, ill intent burning in them like a distant flame. A wicked, Cheshire cat grin devoid of any humour.

And a nose that still looked crooked and mashed up even this long after you'd broken it.

"Hello again, gorgeous," Yuuto hums, forcing you to recall the first time you'd met with venom and mocking in his tone. "I thought that was you."


End file.
